


Poisoned Crown

by FelicisQuill2



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Dystopia, F/M, Hurt Bellamy, Jactavia if you squint, Limited Lifeboats, Matter of Life and Death, Post-Season/Series 03, Pregnancy, Romance, Season 4 trailer, Smut, Unplanned Pregnancy, Worried Clarke, nuclear reactors start to melt down, season 4 speculation, starting a new life in the 4 percent of survivable earth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-08 12:40:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8845483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FelicisQuill2/pseuds/FelicisQuill2
Summary: “Fine," he breathes out. "I want you. But I shouldn't, and you don't feel . . . we're . . . Damn it! I told you to come home with me, Clarke. What did you think that meant?" He throws it out into the space between us that’s lit only by hazy yellow emergency floor lights.I’m pretty sure I stop breathing.He takes a few steps closer to the rover.“I know," I nod softly. "I'm sorry. But I'm not going to leave you, ever again. I swear to you. I promise," I say firmly. "If you want me, I’m right here." “The price is too high. We don't even know if we're going to live. But I want you to have the best chance to survive. You need to get on a lifeboat and let me go, Clarke.”~~~~~~The Council decides to relocate the Sky People to a safe zone. But there aren't enough lifeboats for everyone. Bellamy convinces himself he doesn't deserve to start a new life after everything he's done. Clarke refuses to leave without him.





	1. Impasse

**Author's Note:**

> Where three minutes of new footage of Season 4 leaves off, I'm left with my dangerous imagination. The main question here being: how do you save someone you need and love from the nuclear apocalypse when he doesn’t think he’s worth saving?
> 
> As always, comments are life, and I love getting them! If you have an idea for a Bellarke story you'd like me to write, shoot it my way!

“At the curtain's call,

It's the last of all.

When the lights fade out,

All the sinners crawl.

 

So they dug your grave,

And the masquerade

Will come calling out

At the mess you made.

 

Don't wanna let you down,

But I am hell bound.

Though this is all for you,

Don't wanna hide the truth.

 

When you feel my heat,

Look into my eyes.

It's where my demons hide.

It's where my demons hide.

Don't get too close,

It's dark inside.

It's where my demons hide.

It's where my demons hide.

 

They say it's what you make,

I say it's up to fate.

It's woven in my soul;

I need to let you go.

 

Your eyes, they shine so bright.

I wanna save that light.

I can't escape this now,

Unless you show me how."

~“Demons,” Imagine Dragons

 

“I said no.”

 

I watch him go still in front of me, leather jacket barely crinkling. I know his shoulders are rigid, know his jaw will be clenched before he even turns around.

 

I take a deep breath in, preparing for the fight, and gaze upward. The bare branches above us reach out entreatingly toward the overcast sky as if they too long for the life we left behind what seems like decades ago.

 

“And like I’ve already told you, I don’t take my orders from you,” Bellamy’s voice is steel, unyielding.

 

I don’t care.

 

“You’ve got to be crazy if you think I’m going to let you stay behind and sacrifice yourself! What good would that do? It would take everything we’ve worked so hard for and just throw it away! Is that what you want?”

 

He’s silent. His back is still facing me. I hear the crunch of dead leaves as his boots step on the ground. Turning slowly, his dark eyes find mine easily and don’t waver once they do.

 

"I'm serious, Bellamy. The radiation leakages are just getting worse from the reactors we haven't been able to shut down. What do you think will happen if you stay?" 

 

“I forgave you for leaving us, didn’t I?”

 

I stare off into the woods because I can't look at him. I don't want to go through this again and see the pain build in his eyes. How can I prove that I'm staying, that I'm committed, to him, to  _us_? I've tried to reach him in every way I can think of. Every way except the way I really want to. 

 

ALIE is gone. The two nearest nuclear reactors to Tondc have been shut down by a talented team of soldiers and scientists, thanks to Raven and Monty’s amazing technical savvy. But we know we only have two weeks to evacuate to a safe zone before the last reactor in northern Virginia blows. The special ops team claims there's difficulty with deactivating it, and our people being served up like charred bacon is not an option. So I refuse to go backward when we should be focused on the only chance we have for a future for our people: climbing aboard Luna's lifeboats and sailing the hell out of here. 

 

“Didn’t I?” he demands, louder now, gaze boring into mine as I turn back to face him. 

 

Clearly, we’re not as beyond this as I’d like to think.

 

“Yes,” I reply quietly, glancing down at my own boots.

 

“Then don’t you think it’s time to let me make my own decisions? Don’t you think you owe me that much?”

 

"Bellamy, what I owe you is making sure you live. You deserve to live after everything you’ve done for our people." 

 

"Everything I've done, right," he mutters, hands on his hips. 

 

"Look, the Grounders may not see the radiation as a real threat, but you know better. We have to leave soon. So are you going to tell me what's really going on?"

 

I bridge the gap between us until I’m only standing two feet from him. A gust of wind pushes the last traces of wood smoke from our friends’ dinner campfire into our faces.

 

"They're calling her a Sky Reaper, Clarke. She's a killing machine. They say she murdered a little boy last week when his father refused to join the Azgeda army. That's on me." His voice is gruff, quiet, and controlled. 

 

My mouth trembles slightly, and I blink rapidly several times. I want to do the right thing to comfort him. I'm afraid if I speak though, I'll either start ranting against Octavia or yell at him for punishing himself for something that clearly isn't his fault.

 

I reach for his arm, but he pulls it away from me.

 

Octavia never came back to Arkadia after she fled Polis with Indra while everyone slept. We haven’t seen her in a month, although the rumors creep in with the traders as they arrive back at our gate. She's blanketed in Grounder war paint. She lunges at people on cliff sides, forcing them to plummet to their deaths. She bloodies anyone she perceives to be an old enemy of Lincoln's. She wants, more than anything, to help Ice Nation raise an army against us to wipe us out once and for all. We, Sky Crew, who cannot promise to save everyone from the nuclear fallout. We, the selfish space dwellers with our technology that destroys as often as it blesses. They are sick of what they perceive to be our conceit.

 

She's beyond the pale, past saving, past caring about anything besides vengeance for her loss. But still I know Bellamy wants to search the woods for her. I know he'd trek for miles through deserts, up mountainsides, and into the worst kind of wilderness to find her and see if the rumors are true. Despite everything, she’s still his sister, his responsibility. He wears her lack of forgiveness like a badge of family shame.

 

I gaze at the few jagged scars left on his face from her beating and feel my hands curling into fists. I still can’t believe she did that to her own brother.

 

I'm surprised by how leveled and velvety soft my voice comes out when I finally dare to speak. 

 

"You've been a good brother, Bellamy," I start. "Octavia's choices are _her own_. You're not responsible for what she does now. One day . . . one day she'll come back. You'll see." 

 

"But there won't be anything for her to come back to. And I'm not responsible for that?" he scoffs.

 

"No, you're not," I reply firmly, shaking my head.  

 

“Like I'm not responsible for getting her thrown in the sky box and sent down to this godforsaken planet? Or throwing Raven’s radio into the river? Or for pulling the lever at Mount Weather with you when I knew there were innocent kids inside? Like I'm not somehow responsible for Lincoln's death even though I begged her to help me save him? Or maybe you mean I'm not responsible for murdering a whole field of dormant Grounders?” he snarls bitterly.  

 

I force myself to stand my ground even though the force of his words leaves me internally reeling.  

 

"I know! I know it hurts!" I cry out. "I know you feel responsible. And we do have blood on our hands, you're right. It's true. But why do you keep torturing yourself? We need to find a way to move forward," I'm almost crying. 

 

He steps closer to me, and I watch his chest rise and fall more rapidly than usual, straining a little against his tan shirt.  

 

"There is no we when it comes to this, Clarke. It's like you said before - _I_ have to live with it. And it's never going to go away. I'm trying to do the right thing, but in case you haven't noticed, everything's going to Hell," he flings out his arms in frustration. 

 

"Then talk to me about it! I'm here. I want to help you!" I insist. Turning on my heel, I march over to the makeshift log seats around the campfire and sink down on one of them.

 

I jab the dying fire back to life in a burst of sparks and then gesture to him expectantly. I'm trying to look calm and controlled, but, in reality, I feel lightheaded and slightly sick. “Come here and sit down." 

 

“Clarke, I’m done–”

 

“Well I'm not. So come here," I snap. 

 

The seconds seem to stretch out longer as they fall away. I rub my hands together as the raw wind whips into my ribs and down the gap between my faded, thin shirt and old jacket, sending ice down my back. I should have worn gloves. I know my hands are turning purple-red with the chill. But I can still hear my heart beating in what sounds like double time as I wait for his answer. _Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub._

 

Finally, I hear him sigh. Then the shuffling footsteps draw closer, and he sits down two seats away from me, staring into the fire and warming his hands near the crackling, tangerine flames. 

 

I wait patiently, copying his actions. When he looks at me, despite the fact that his face is clean shaven and the dark circles that plagued him all through the ALIE nightmare have faded, he seems older. More mature and resolute. For a moment, I feel myself missing the rebellious guy chanting " _Whatever the hell we want!"_ to a crowd of newly free delinquents standing in awe of his confidence and bravado. Even I was a little in awe of his confidence and bravado after we crash-landed. I probably should have mentioned that at some point, but back then I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. And now, everyone respects his much steadier strength and self-sacrificial tendencies because they pull our people together as opposed to tearing us apart.  

 

He starts to speak, and I force myself to focus instead of starting to think up counter arguments. 

 

“Look, everyone is going as far south as they can get just in case the last reactor goes off or Ice Nation attacks, right? But Luna already said she doesn’t have enough space to carry all of Arkadia out of here. So it just makes sense that I stay and try to find Octavia. The Blakes don't exactly deserve a place of honor in our new society, Clarke. It'll take a long time before we're missed."

 

“That's not true!" I argue immediately. I take a deep breath and attempt to radiate calm. But I'm freaking out. I don't know what I'm going to do if I lose him for real this time. It would be a void I would never be able to fill because _nobody, nobody_ in my entire life - not even my mother - has been as unshakably loyal as the man sitting in front of me. I need his intuition, his compassion, his intelligence, and even though I don't want to admit it to him, I want his protection, too. I've come to crave it, and I feel stronger with him beside me.  _You better convince him, Clarke. Sell this like your life is depending on it, because it is._

 

"Bellamy, I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again, " I begin. "Yes, you’ve done some horrible things - but in unimaginable circumstances. And so have I. So have our friends, and so has the Council. For God’s sake, the Ark got its start by blowing the 13th station out of the sky!” I look intently at him, but he won’t meet my eyes. He’s staring into the fire, hands together on his knees. “But those decisions don’t define you. You made those choices during wartime, and you have to stop judging yourself so harshly for them. You were protecting our people. You did protect our people. You're not a murderer with no conscience - you protected Indra. You tried to save more Grounders when Pike wanted to kill everyone. You helped prevent Kane and Sinclair from being executed. And you put everyone you care about before yourself, every time! That is not what a heartless person does! So if you want me to beg you, fine, I'm begging. Please stay and take a seat on a boat. Ok?"  

 

He shifts and leans in until his knees are almost touching mine. “If you’re looking for someone to do whatever you say and agree at all costs, you know I’m not that guy, Clarke. Not anymore.”

 

A wave of thick unease rolls from my throat deep into my stomach. I’m going to lose him, and I don’t know how to stop it. I feel my hands grow clammy despite the fire and begin to slightly shake. I push them deep into my jacket pockets. 

 

“I don’t want you to do whatever I say and agree at all costs!” I practically shout. “I just want you to live! Why the hell is that asking too much?”

 

“Because life's not worth living if you're just surviving!" he bellows back. "I don't know what the point of it all is anymore. Every time we defeat one enemy, the next one is always right there waiting to take its place. Aren't you exhausted?" He's looking at me earnestly, almost perplexed.

 

He deserves a good answer. I hope I have one. 

 

I’m up in an instant, sliding into the spot next to him and grabbing one of his hands in both of my own. It’s so much warmer than mine, and I'm not sure how that’s possible.

 

“This  _is_ our chance to live and to try to be happy. You're right - what we've been doing here isn't living. We're in constant fear we'll die," my voice breaks in frustration. "So yeah, _of course_ I'm tired of being afraid. And I'm not sure when the black rain will come or why Roan's turning on us. The Grounders think they'll be able to ride out this threat the same way they survived a hundred years ago. That's what the Council says. But I'll be damned if I let you stay here and suffer through the effects of radiation exposure! No matter what you might think right now, you don't deserve that! Do you hear me?" I squeeze his hand harder. "You deserve a chance to see the person you'd be if you didn't have to constantly fight for your life. And I think that guy will be pretty amazing.”

 

He squeezes back briefly before letting his hands drop and running one through his unruly black curls. It’s been ages since he’s had a haircut.

 

“I'm not sure if I deserve that kind of ending,” he says quietly.

 

I make a noise that most closely resembles a keening wail. 

 

“Well I deserve to feel safe, Bellamy, how about that?" my voice rises. "And I only feel safe, _completely_  safe . . . with you.” Heat flows across my neck and into my cheeks at the words. My throat goes so dry it's like a glass of sand has been poured inside it.

 

His reaction startles me.

 

He jumps up, towering over me. His words fly at me like small hand grenades, “Don't you lay that on me now, Clarke. I'm not going to let you make me feel guilty! It's too late for that. I can’t save you. And I never could protect you, God knows I tried."

 

"What are you--"

 

"No! You talked, I listened. Now you listen. I did forgive you for leaving, but then you wouldn’t come back to our people even when I begged you to. You wanted to lead alone, and you got your wish. You’re the Commander of Death. The one who escaped Mount Weather like some kind of myth. The one who makes alliances alone with Polis when it suits you. You don’t need me. I’m the guy who doesn’t even know who Oppenheimer is, remember?"

 

I blink at him, in a sort of daze as a cold shiver bubbles up through my body. 

 

"I _never_ wanted to do it without you!" my voice breaks, but his face is unreadable. 

 

"I was trying to protect us all with that alliance!" I insist, but he talks louder. 

 

"Maybe, but you left me here to actually fight back against the people who wanted us dead. So don't you _dare_ try to make it sound like I owe you and can't go after my sister when I've done nothing but have your back every step of the way." 

 

"I don't think you owe me for -"

 

"It's always about you, isn't it? What _you_ think is best! What _you_ need. What _you_  say other people should do. Well, while you were too busy living in the lap of luxury in Polis, I was trying to keep our people alive without your help! So _what exactly_ have you done for me that gives you the right to control my decisions?" he practically spits the words out at me.

 

My blue eyes fly open wide, and I know my mouth is in an almost perfectly round “O” of surprise. I thought I'd welcome his anger, but it stabs at me, leaving me hollow. I’d be devastated, too, if I wasn’t so furious myself. Before I know it, I’m on my feet, too. I hate the pinprick of tears I feel stinging behind my eyes, but I won’t be able to hold them off for long.

 

“What have I done?!" I screech. "I let that missile wipe out Tondc for you! To keep you safe in Mount Weather, to make sure the Mountain Men didn’t know you were slipping us information. I begged Roan not to kill you when you followed us underground! And then, my mom, she said . . . she said, in the T-Throne Room she was going to torture you first, and I-I-I” I stamp my foot in complete frustration with myself. I’m two seconds away from simultaneously blubbering and pounding my fists into his chest because he has to see how much I always cared for him. How much the words _Start with Bellamy Blake_ horrified me and made me want to die if he was about to. But then I remember he wasn't there in the Throne Room with my ALIE-invaded mother. He never heard the chilling pronouncement. Only I did.  

 

"You sent me into Mount Weather knowing I could die!" he shoots back. "You told me it was a risk you were willing to take!" 

 

The accusation is true and stings me in a way little else could. Yet he still has it jumbled, only partly right, like half a puzzle left abandoned on a kitchen table. The image is mostly there but not fully in focus. 

 

I swallow hard. "You're right. I did do that. But it killed me! You have to believe that I didn't want to do it! Lexa said--" 

 

"Right, if the Heda said it, it must be true!" he sneers at me. "Because she's the voice of God, right, Clarke? She knows you and everyone and everything better than the rest of us, right?" 

 

The tears pour down my face like tiny, fast-paced rivers. 

 

"I wasn't strong enough not to listen, Bellamy! I'm sorry! I'm sorrier than I've ever been for making you feel like you didn't matter. You mattered more than anyone else to me!" I choke out. 

 

His jaw tightens noticeably, and his eyebrows furrow together. "Clarke, I--" he reaches out a hand on my forearm, but I shake it off. 

 

"I'd just lost Finn! And I already loved you more! Do you know how messed up that made me? Do you?" I jab him in the chest. "And I couldn't say a word to anyone about it. Who could I tell? Who could I tell I couldn't survive if you died?" 

 

He stares at me, still and silent. 

 

“And everything you said before, you don’t really believe that, do you?” I ask incredulously. He kicks the silty sand with his boot, and it blows into the wind. "Maybe you do. I believed it when Lexa said love was weakness," I mutter to the ground.

 

When I look up, his eyes are softer than before, so I keep going. 

 

“It's not true, Bellamy. I never wanted to lead alone. I wanted to lead with you; I trusted you from the beginning because you proved yourself over and over. But I pushed what I wanted aside. You had to have realized that; you know me! Everyone I love dies, Bellamy! All of them. My dad, Wells, Finn, even Lexa. I needed you to stay alive. I would have done anything to protect you. And I couldn’t come home because I couldn’t look at everyone and think about the murders I’d committed--"

 

He makes a motion as if he's about to say something, but I already know what it is. 

 

"That _we_ committed. I needed time! I couldn’t deal with it all, all right, and—”

 

His jaw slackens a little as he presses his lips together before interrupting me with an upheld hand. “Clarke, I’m sorry. I was out of line. It's all right; it's all right." He pulls me into his chest with one arm, but I only stay there a moment, leaving a tear stain on his shirt, before I pull away and grip his arms, gazing into his face. 

 

“No, it's not all right!” I say, the emotion getting caught in my throat despite my best efforts to keep it at bay. “I am _so_ sorry. I’m sorry I left you. You were my partner, and it was wrong. What else do you want me to do? You tell me, and I’ll do it. But _please_ stop punishing me. I did what I thought was best for our people, the same as you. And I won’t apologize for that part because we’re all still alive, aren’t we?”

 

There's a long pause. He's looking at me so carefully I'm growing self-conscious. 

 

“Yeah.” I watch his Adam’s apple bobble in his throat, transfixed for a moment. I trail my fingertips down his forearms and let them fall away, inhaling the spicy outdoor scent of him as the wind tosses it toward me.  

 

“Ok, then," I smile slightly at him and raise my eyebrows. "I want you to know that I need you; We all need you. We need the guy who scaled the side of a cliff to save Mel and wouldn’t rest until every one of our friends trapped in Mount Weather was free. The one who did everything he could to destroy ALIE and protect us in the Tower. Remember him? Because I do. And,” I slow down  and lower my voice, allowing a shaky hand to curl against his cheek slowly, carefully, “We need the guy who loves his family so much he stupidly takes whatever comes at him if it makes them feel better.”

 

His eyes flutter closed briefly before opening again at the contact. I think he leans into my hand a little, but then he turns away. I drop my hand.  

 

“Bellamy, what makes you such a martyr, huh? You didn't deserve this beating.” I whisper, stepping closer to him. “Do my kills not count? Aren't I just like you? What's it gonna take for you to believe that this isn't all on you? We're in this together. I promised you, and I meant it. I'm not going anywhere." 

 

“Clarke, I-I know what you’re trying to do, but—”

  

"Stop. I need to know something." I hold him in place with my eyes. Suddenly, the question is right there on the tip of my tongue, but it tastes like concrete. I take a deep breath to steady myself. "How do you feel about me?" the words sound croaky as they escape my throat.

 

_He has to feel something. The way he looked when he found me in that subway tunnel with Roan. The way he tried to get me to stay in Arkadia after Mount Weather. The way he forgave me for closing the dropship door on him._

 

My brain whirrs and buzzes but won't be silenced. 

 

Far away through the woods and up a steep hill, the lights of Arkadia start to flicker out. Standing here by the fire though, the light reflects cleanly off the planes of his face, burnishing them a beautiful bronze. I see the hazel flecks in his eyes jump in the firelight. The silence lengthens between us. I gulp.

 

“You have nothing to say? Really?” I ask, my voice smaller and squeakier. "You've kept me so safe all these months, at all costs," I huff out. I hate the power he has over me but never seems fully aware of. Yet when his fingertips ghost up my arms and grasp my elbows for a moment, goosebumps erupt instantaneously, and I'm drunk on a soaring sensation. 

 

“Clarke, we’re not doing this right now,” he says gruffly.

 

I grab onto the sides of his black jacket, pinning him to the spot.

 

“Oh, yes we are,” the words fall out of my mouth instinctively, and I know they’re right. This is the moment, whether we like it or not.

 

He shakes his head fiercely, licking his lips.

 

I feel the skin crinkle between my eyebrows as my eyes squint a little from the fire’s haze.

 

“Please,” I whisper. I grab his hands, and he lets me weave my fingers between his calloused ones.

 

“All right. You want me to tell you something?” his face softens, and the words come out husky and slow. “I wasn't built for an apocalypse, all right? I like things settled. I like order and stability. And you've given me that. You're like a lighthouse on the shore, Clarke. But then the second I think I've got it all under control and can swim to the beach, you're the current dragging me under."

 

My face crumples immediately. He thinks I'm a damn siren from  _The Odyssey_ ready to kill him if he gets too close. 

 

"What the hell does that even mean?" I question. "How can I ground you and drown you at the same time?" 

 

"Because you, me, us...it's overwhelming. Things always get in the way," he says it low, mumbles it really. "Anyway, I don't have enough to give you. I'm not good for you."

 

"That's bullshit, and you know it, Bellamy! I'm not letting you take the easy way out!" I'm crying again. "I'm not crazy - I know you feel something." 

 

He sighs, dragging his fingers through his curls and cupping the back of his neck. He flicks his eyes over my face then looks away from me up toward the Ark. "You're not crazy, Clarke."

 

The breath catches in my throat.

 

He pushes a wisp of yellow-white hair back behind my ear. “But the better people are the ones who make the sacrifices. You know that. I’ve got to give up my seat on the lifeboats to fix the mess I made. You don’t need me. You’ll be fine, strong. You’ll lead.”

 

The knot squeezes sickeningly tight in my stomach. 

 

“You’re wrong,” I soak up my tears with the tip of my shirt sleeve. 

 

Although his gaze remains locked on mine, I feel my chest tighten. Out of nowhere, he starts rubbing the curve of my waist soothingly. At first he remains silent. Finally, he sighs.

 

“I don’t want to see anymore innocent lives lost. Finding O is what I've got to do. So get on the damn boat when it's ready and leave me here. Maybe I'll find Octavia, maybe I won't. Maybe the reactor won't ever even go off, and I'll come down south sooner than you think.”

 

“No," I shake my head emphatically. "I want you to come with me. I want to know you're safe. The radiation alone will--”

 

“Well, you can’t always get what you want, even when you’re the Princess," he cuts across me. 

 

His lips quirk up the smallest fraction when I make a face at the old nickname.

 

“Please don’t do this," I plead, batting away my runaway tears. 

 

He tilts his head to the side then takes a step back from me. I see the frustration in his face. 

 

“God, Clarke! Don’t you understand? We’re out of time. I need to let you go, and this isn’t helping." 

 

I step forward and look up into the eyes of the man gazing painfully down at me. His eyes hypnotize me - I'm flying through crystalline galaxies in a blissful, weightless sort of way. I'm untethered and somehow home all at once.  

 

“No, you don’t understand. I'm not letting you let me go, Bellamy!" I wrap my arms around his waist and squeeze tightly. I'm a little surprised when he folds his own arms around me naturally. But it feels so perfect, and I don't want to move. So I watch his reaction to my next words instead. "I don't want to be apart from you anymore, Bellamy. I'm in love with you. And I think you're in love with me, too." 


	2. Quid Pro Quo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke's diversion tactics get a little more creative.

_“So baby pull me closer in the backseat of your Rover_

_That I know you can’t afford._

_Bite that tattoo on your shoulder,_

_Pull the sheets right off the corner_

_Of the mattress that you stole.”_

~ “Closer,” The Chainsmokers

 

He blinks down at me. I’m pretty sure I’ve rendered him speechless. It’s quiet enough that I can hear my heart beat, and I grip the cool, slippery leather of his jacket tighter between my fingers.

“Clarke, you don’t know what you’re saying. You’re—” he tries to take a step back. My hands hold him in place.

My eyes search his frantically as my lungs feel like they’re collapsing.

“I know exactly what I’m saying!” I protest. “I should have said it a long time ago! It’s been true since the dropship.”

He wraps his hands around my forearms and gently pries my hands off his jacket.

He shakes his head. His body goes stiff and rigid, but I notice him tap his boot into the dark dirt a few times.

“You’re emotional because of the evacuation. You’re not thinking straight."

"I am thinking straight!" I interject. 

"Plus, you’re tired," he cuts straight across me. "You’ve been up at all hours getting the plans ready with the Council. You need to get some sleep. Come on, it’s freezing out here. Let’s get back to camp,” he jerks his head up toward the hill in front of us.

If shock feels like all the thoughts in your head being obliterated, a dull buzzing in your ears, and your mouth gaping open and closed like a fish, then I’m in shock.

“That’s not it at all!” I exclaim, but Bellamy already has wrapped a hand around my upper arm and is steering me toward camp. I feel nauseated, deflated, embarrassed, confused. Hot blood courses into my neck and pools in my face, the blossoming roses a visible manifestation of my total frustration.

I break away from him, and he begins walking faster. It’s hard to keep up with his long strides. My breath comes out in icy white puffs spiraling toward the starry sky. My thoughts race  by faster than I can process them, and I don’t think I’ll be able to say anything coherent because I can’t pin them down. _Why is he doing this? Does he really feel nothing?_ And still, always, they circle back to _How can I stop him from leaving me?_

His boots make crunching sounds on the gravel path, and I try to clear my mind as I take in their steady clomping. When he makes it about 15 feet ahead of me, I grasp at the only threat I can think to scare him with. 

“Fine. Look for Octavia now, go tomorrow if you have to, but be back in time for the boats! If you miss them, you’ll have to travel by foot, and it’s hundreds of miles through the Dead Zone. You’ll never make it!” I shout at his back. “And I won’t be in control of anything. I can’t make Luna wait for you, and I can’t guarantee we’ll be able to sail back for you.”

He stops and turns slowly, casting a long, dark shadow across the grass.

“Luna won’t have to wait for me because I already told you, I’m not going,” he enunciates each word carefully between gritted teeth.

“Perfect! We can just wait for the end of the world together out in the woods then,” I snap, marching past him toward the gates. “Because I’m not letting you die alone out there.”

Stephen, the tall, bulky guard on duty, nods at me as I approach, shouting “Open the gates!” to another guard obscured behind a watch post. I listen to the metal clank open with a satisfying ring.

Tangled strands of blonde hair whip into my face, stinging my eyes as I will myself to quicken my pace.

Still, he overtakes me before I reach the garage door. He punches the code into the metallic keypad like each number has done him a great, personal wrong. We wait for the whirring and grinding of gears. I cross my arms over my chest and look off toward the garden, where someone has placed a black tarp over the carrots, tomatoes, and cabbages to prevent an evening freeze from killing them.

As the doors swing open into the cavernous space that stores everything we can’t fit in the Ark, his voice makes me jump.

“Why didn’t you say anything months ago if that’s how you really felt?” he asks in a rough, constrained whisper.

I spin around on my heel, my insides transforming into churning liquid. He's closer than I anticipated, but I inch nearer anyway to see his expression. It’s guarded, but inquisitive.

“Just because I didn’t say it to you, doesn’t mean it wasn’t true,” I can hear the plea in my own voice. _God, I don’t want him to go._

“But I didn’t know.”

“Well, you know now," I whisper, staring at the ground because it's too hard to look at him. "I need you the most, ok? I _want_ you the most. I’ll go wherever you want to go. I love you.”

“You deserve better than me, Clarke.” I look up at this. Half of his face is in shadow, but I reach out to cradle it in both my hands.

“Don't you love me, too?” It’s said with all the fervency of a whispered prayer offered up to the altar of a stained glass chapel.

“That’s not the point.”

“Bellamy,  _please_!” I actually do pound my fists into his chest. “If being in love with you _is not the point,_ then I don’t want to get the point.” My voice reverberates around the vast, hollow room and returns to me, ringing.

He doesn’t even attempt to stop me from hitting him, and as soon as I realize this, I abruptly quit doing so, remembering Octavia.

“I want to make everything better, but I don’t know how,” I admit softly to him, leaning my head into his chest.

When he kisses the crown of my head lightly, I freeze. I break away and look up at his lips, at the freckles that dust across his nose. One fleeting glance at his sad eyes, and I’m on my tiptoes, pressing my chapped lips to his softer ones.

His hands shift instantly to my waist, pushing me away.

“We can’t,” he tells me.

“Why not?” I huff.

“Because it will change everything. And I still need to find Octavia.”

I start walking toward the nearest rover before he can see the plump teardrop glide down my cheek. I lean my back against the rear door of the army green beast, letting my fingers cradle the raised ridges of the back bumper.

“So that’s it? We throw this,” I gesture back and forth between us, “away because I have bad timing? You never seemed to have any problems with your harem girls!” My voice is laced with anger; my pride is stinging. 

His nostrils flare up but he stares back at me, clenching his fists at his sides. 

“That was different," he pushes each word out with a physical effort. "What do you want me to say?” He's more desperate than I'm used to, less controlled. 

I shrug and put my hands on my hips mockingly. “I don't know, Bellamy. Why don't you start with whatever the hell you want,” I say bitingly.

He snorts derisively.

"People never want the real truth."

"You know me better than that. Try me," I challenge, steeling my voice.

 He looks me over carefully, appraisingly. The silence lengthens. His expression slowly softens as his gaze lingers over my face and then seems to sweep over my body in a way that makes me grow warm. 

“Fine," he breathes out. "I want you. But I shouldn't, and you don't feel . . . we're . . . Damn it! I told you to come _home with me,_ Clarke. What did you think that meant?" He throws it out into the space between us that’s lit only by hazy yellow emergency floor lights.

I’m pretty sure I stop breathing.

He takes a few steps closer to the rover.

“I know," I nod softly. "I'm sorry. But I'm not going to leave you, ever again. I swear to you. I promise," I say firmly. "If you want me, I’m right here." 

“The price is too high. We don't even know if we're going to live. But I want you to have the best chance to survive. You need to get on a lifeboat and let me go, Clarke.”

His words, the deep thrum of his voice, are full of his concern for me. 

“You won’t hurt me,” I call back. “You can’t. We’re in this together, remember? We survive together. I trust you.”

With that, he steadily puts one foot in front of the other on the creaking gray floor. He’s ten feet away, and then five. And then two. I trace my fingers up the muscles running from his biceps into his shoulders when he reaches me. Then, very carefully, I run the tip of my index finger across his bottom lip and trail it down to his jawline.

“Maybe you shouldn’t trust me,” he glides the faintest touch across the hollow space where my neck meets my shoulder. Goosebumps erupt up and down my arms.

He’s so close I can see the outlines of his blown pupils against his dark brown eyes. A buzzing thrum runs through my body like an electrical current. I’m used to the fear of not having enough time, of pouncing and rushing and needing to feel another warm body against mine to wipe my mind clean if only for a few hours. But as I feel the warmth of his fingers spread into my sides, I realize I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to surrender to somebody else and move more slowly.

But I want to try.

“Way too late,” I whisper, pushing my palms into the back bumper of the rover to hoist myself up onto its seat. Bellamy looks at me in surprise, stepping back, and I let my legs dangle a little bit. I smile slightly at him in the darkness, tucking my chin toward my shoulder and watching him out of the corner of my eye. He looks mesmerized, and it makes me feel alluring instead of clumsy and stupid. I reach my arm out for him, and let my fingers catch on the soft cotton of his shirt, yanking it out of the waistband of his cargo pants and bringing him closer to me.

“Clarke,” the warning grumble comes low in his throat. “Is this really what you want?” The incredulity in his tone surprises and unsettles me.

So I lock my arms around his neck, urging his face down to mine. “Definitely,” I sigh against his mouth. This time he lets me kiss him.

His lips are warm and full against my own, but tentative. I thread my fingers through his fluffy curls, grinning against his mouth as I realize he must have recently washed his hair. A little moan comes from the back of my throat when I feel his tongue at the seam of my lips and eagerly part them for him. It seems to melt away the last of his hesitation because his hands suddenly lock under my calves and wrap them around his waist, dragging me a little roughly to the edge of the bumper, closer to him. He kisses me deeply, like he’s drowning, and I’m oxygen.

My shoulders bump into the rover as I allow myself to slide down the side of the giant vehicle as his lips move to my neck. He slips his hand under my jacket and shirt, tracing my backbone until he finds the clasp of my bra and pops it open. I kiss him urgently, clawing at his shoulders for leverage, held up mainly by my knees digging into his waist, my shoulders dusting against the rover, and the occasional hand he uses to cradle the small of my back in a way that sends sparks through me.

I hear the metal click of the rover door handle as he forces it up and swings it open. He wraps his left arm securely around my waist and pulls me off the back of the rover. I keep my legs wrapped securely around his hips, giggling into the hushed space the way water sounds splashing against rocks in the sunlight.

“Hold on tight, Princess,” he says.

I do. I wrap my arms around his neck as he pulls both doors open and drops me lightly onto the floor of the rover. I quickly slide backward to make room for him to follow me. He closes the doors behind him, then turns back to look at me. I never fully appreciated how much he can resemble a panther stalking his prey until this moment. I know I’m wearing a goofy smile and that my hair’s fanning out at crazy angles all around my face. But I shrug off my jacket and push his off his shoulders, draping the fabric on the floor beneath us. I bite my lip and stare into his eyes – completely focused on me – as I pull my shirt over my head and let it drop to join the jackets. My faded, gray cotton bra now barely covers my breasts since it’s already unclipped.

His eyes, always so carefully locked on my face, dart down swiftly to look at the dangling fabric before ricocheting back to my own. Time hangs suspended in the quiet hollow of the rover as we look at each other. I can’t believe this is happening with _Bellamy_ , my enemy turned co-leader turned friend turned partner turned person. _My_ Bellamy. Awe and the golden, bubbling feeling of euphoria pumps through me.

My mind flashes to a dream I had when we stayed on Luna’s rig the first night and shared a room. He was nowhere near me that night – the room had separate beds – but I still woke up with my heart racing, my fingers grasping the sheets in search of his own. I frantically looked around for him when they came up on air, afraid my actions betrayed my thoughts. For once, he was actually sleeping, turned away from me, chest rising and falling rhythmically. Sweat covered my skin in a thin sheen, and it took me ages to get back to sleep as I kept imagining his hands on my body.

But this is real. Actually, it’s surreal.

He leans back on his heels then moves backward until he reaches the smooth side wall, surveying me silently. A string of emotions plays across his face the way lightning paints the sky, each moving by so quickly that it’s hard to keep up. Our frantic hands of several seconds ago have stilled, and his now rest in his lap. The pine and cinnamon outdoorsy scent that clings to his skin tickles my nose as he shifts, and I lean toward him automatically, following his body with mine like a moon that must circle its home planet.

His large, warm hand cups the side of my face, and I nod the tiniest amount at the unasked question forming on his face.

“This is happening?” he breathes.

“If you want it to,” I reply before turning my face to kiss his palm.

I let him pull the straps of my bra away and chuckle a little when his eyes widen at the sight of my breasts. I climb onto his lap, straddling his hips because I need to feel closer to him. 

Fingertips drift over the soft, pale mounds, then he weighs them with his hands. I suck in my breath when he glides over my nipples. He smirks a little and does it again. Then again.

“Sure of yourself, aren’t you?” I gasp against the light stubble of his jawbone. He responds by gripping my ass and pulling me firmly to him, and I grind down into his lap, moaning softly before I can stifle it.

“I am now,” he replies, grinning, and kisses me with a new ferocity, his tongue exploring my mouth. My fingers tug at the edge of his shirt, and I manage to yank it off his head.

His chiseled abs feel like warm marble as I pause to run my hands along his stomach.

“See something you like?” he quips.

“I’ve always liked it,” I reply, licking my lower lip. “But I could never touch it before.”

He smirks and presses his lips securely to mine, and I let my arms loop around his neck, playing with the sleek edges of his curls. He shifts his body, rising slowly, and keeps one hand on the small of my back, lowering me down onto the soft bundle of our assorted clothes.

He holds his weight on his forearms over me and toes off his boots as I sketch swirling patterns on his biceps. The snap of his pants makes a satisfying sound when I pull it apart and help him slide them off, chuckling as he tries unsuccessfully to kick them toward the back of the rover.

"The positions you put me in, Clarke," he jokes gruffly, flashing his eyebrows at me and smirking in that roguish way he used to. I didn't realize how much I missed it. 

And then I’m laughing, rolling a little from side to side before reaching down to help him with his pants. He retaliates by tickling my sides for several seconds until I hold up my palms to him. 

"I surrender! I'm sorry! I surrender," I huff as his laughter tapers off with my own. 

Quietly, I slip a hand back up alongside his cheek, right over one of the jagged scars, and reach up to kiss it lightly then draw back to look into his eyes. 

“I don’t want anyone to hurt you anymore,” I whisper.

His eyes darken, full of an unspoken emotion, and he grows still. My eyes search his for a long moment, and then his lips press against mine softly before settling on the pulse point of my neck, sucking hard, as I fist my hand into his hair. A minute later he’s playing with my jeans’ button, opening it and slipping a hand down and cupping me through my plain, navy blue panties.

My back arches at the sensation, pressing me closer to his hand.

“Take them off,” I demand in his ear, nipping at his ear lobe lightly.

He grips the edge of my pants and pulls them away from my legs, running his hands up my calves toward my thighs, squeezing them slightly. I shiver a little when I feel his fingertips skimming against the soft, pale skin of my stomach. He wraps his fingers around the edge of my panties, looking at me once more for a long moment. I lean up and kiss his cheek before nodding.

I feel this last layer of fabric fall away from me and the hardness of him against my thigh as he shifts back over me. His fingers play with my folds for a minute, and I shudder pleasantly when the callouses rub against the sensitive skin.

I let my knees fall open to his touch and grip his shoulders, running my nails down his back in a way that leaves pale pink paths winding down his body as he swirls one nipple back into his mouth and unhesitatingly slips a finger into me simultaneously. My senses explode with the rush of unexpected feelings overtaking me, and I wind my fingers around the cuff of his jacket below me.

His mouth finds my neck again, my jaw, and my lips, where I kiss him back hungrily, sloppily, unable to get enough of his taste and alluring wood smoke scent.

“Bellamy!” I gasp out as I feel his second finger joining the first, grating along the tight bundle of nerves and tissue within me over and over again until I can’t think, can barely breathe. I feel my leg muscles shake a little as his thumb focuses his attention on nudging my clit out from under its hood in quick, circular strokes. It isn’t long before I start to climax, locking my ankles around his back.

“That’s it. Let go. Let go for me, Princess,” he murmurs.

When my breathing begins to return to normal, I wind my fingers into the elastic of his boxers, tugging it down, eager to see where the dark line of hair creeping up from under it goes.

It’s his turn to gasp as I sit up and wrap my hand around him, stroking gently. I leave feather-light kisses along his collarbone, where the skin is also dusted with freckles. A minute passes before he tangles his fingers in my hair, pushing my hand away.

“Enough,” he grunts.

“But I’m not done,” I smirk at him. “ _You’re not done_.”

“I’ll get there,” he says it like a promise, and a sound somewhere between a shriek and a giggle erupts from my mouth as my back hits the jackets again, and he looms over me. He intertwines my right hand with his left and locks them in place over my head. His right hand grips my hip firmly, and I lightly wrap my calf against his hip bone. There’s no preamble when he pushes into me, like he can wait no longer, and his mouth is over mine quickly to stifle my gasp, to suck it into his own mouth.

He thrusts into me slowly at first and then speeds up, hips snapping more aggressively, my own hip marked with the imprints of his fingers. I prefer it this way. I knew we would fit well together. I feel the energy radiating off his body, the pent-up things he's wanted to tell me but has never said roll off of him as I grip his shoulders and look into the deepness of his eyes. I feel my muscles clenching around him, and, right on cue, he begins stroking my clit again, bringing me promptly over the edge of the canyon I was balancing on. A few seconds later, he grunts out my name, exploding inside me. As I float back down to Earth, I feel the heavy languidness in my limbs, but my heart is still beating rapidly. I curl my arms around his back and pull him flush against me when he can no longer hold himself up, pushing his sweat-soaked curls off his forehead and kissing his temple.

"I'm too heavy," he tries to protest.

"Shhh, you're perfect. Stay right there," I insist, and he lets me trace lines between his freckles, creating imaginary pictures, for a few minutes. 

I miss his weight the moment he rolls onto his side and immediately curl into his chest, letting him wrap his arm around me. I trace the veins along his tan forearms and knit our fingers together once more.

After a while, his own breathing steadies out behind me, and I think he’s fallen asleep. i nestle into the crook of his elbow, examining the soft cotton of his shirt below me. I feel warm and languid and _happy_ for the first time in I can’t even remember how long. _Maybe he’ll stay now._ The thought surprises me a little. I never wanted to be like those girls on the Ark who used sex to keep a man. I do know how different this is - Bellamy is my partner, in all things now. But it doesn't stop the insecure part of me from going into overdrive with worrying thoughts. I don't know if I'm enough to stay behind for. 

But then his voice comes, firm and steady, and the spell breaks.

“Clarke, we’ve got to get back to our rooms. The guards patrol here every hour. They’ll be coming soon.”

I turn over to look into his face, which is half-hidden in shadow.

“Just like that, huh? It’s so easy to turn it on and off for you?” the hurt stings my voice even as I try to suppress it.

"Clarke," he drags out my name pointedly and presses a kiss against my shoulder. "You know that's not it. You know what the punishment is for anyone caught out-of-bounds after hours now that Roan's building an army, no matter who it is. We need to go . . .  _now_ ,” he returns evenly, sitting up and plucking his shirt out of my hands to put on. 

Shocklashing. That's the punishment.

I sigh, grabbing my bra from the pile of strewn clothing, somehow more confused and hurt than before. 

 _Will we ever have a chance to just be happy together_ _?_ I wonder as I lace up my boots and then take Bellamy's steady hand as he steers me down from the rover and toward the doors that will take us back into the heart of the Ark. 


	3. Arkadia's Captive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy won't change his mind. Clarke begins to unravel.

_“But you don't wanna be high like me,_

_Never really knowing why like me._

_You don't ever wanna step off that roller coaster and be all alone._

_You don't wanna ride the bus like this,_

_Never knowing who to trust like this._

_You don't wanna be stuck up on that stage singing,_

_Stuck up on that stage singing._

_All I know are sad songs, sad songs_

_Darling, all I know are sad songs, sad songs.”_

~“I Took a Pill in Ibiza,” Mike Posner

 

I don’t see him at breakfast.

 

The oatmeal tastes like sawdust in my mouth as I spoon in little bites, my eyes flicking to the door every time it swings open. At one point, large, tan fingers curl around the edge of it, and I start to stand up. But it’s Miller, followed by Bryan and Harper, and I slide back into my seat again.

 

“What’s going on? Who are you looking for?” Raven asks from across the table the third time this happens, her brown eyes narrowing.

 

“Nothing. No one. Hurry up, we’ve got to finish and be at the Council meeting at nine. Luna should be here this afternoon with her people, and we haven’t finished mapping out the routes south yet.”

 

I look back down at the apple on my tray with just one bite mark in it. A warm brown is already leeching into the flesh of the fruit where it’s touched the air.

A frustrated sigh escapes me before I can suppress it.

“I know they’re not going to sail down here with enough boats for us all to leave in. And Roan doesn’t want to offer any help because he’s convinced Ice Nation is immune to the black rain, and we can’t shut down the last few reactors, so the people left behind won’t even have a chance, and –”

 

“Clarke. Clarke!” Raven snaps her fingers under my nose. “Look at me.”

 

I reluctantly drag my eyes back up to hers and try to take a few deep breaths. I feel the vague edges of a panic attack settling into my chest.

 

“Luna said she was going to sail every boat she could get her hands on to us, and we’re going to save as many people as humanely possible, ok? For now, you know the Ark will help us ride out the black rain if and when it gets here. Maybe Ice Nation is immune, I don’t know. But believe me, if Roan’s people start dying, he’ll get his ass here to help before it’s time to leave because – above everything else - Ice Nation wants to live.”

 

I feel my lip curl up the tiniest fraction, and she continues.

 

“And all this bullshit about a coup and him becoming commander is crazy because there’s _an apocalypse coming_. So you don’t need to be worried about setting up diplomatic meetings with those morons, all right? I’ll blow them sky high if they threaten the safety of everyone else and leave Mother Nature to finish the job. And I swear to you, Monty and I are doing everything we can to help shut down the other nuclear reactors. We’re going to survive this.”

 

I nod shakily, allowing her to pat my forearm a few times.

 

“You’re right. I know you’re right. But if I just hadn’t thought I could convince Roan to stand down and actually help us –”

 

“Then you wouldn’t be you, so stop beating yourself up already! We’ve gone over this a dozen times. Nobody was ever going to give them the Flame, no matter what they threatened. And at least they had the chance to hear exactly what we’re up against from Kane,” Raven says decisively.

 

“Mmm,” is all I can muster.

 

“That’s not the whole reason you’re upset though, is it?” she says slowly, still watching me intently.

 

Bellamy chooses that exact moment to walk into the mess hall with Jasper. He catches my eye and raises his chin slightly in acknowledgment before turning away. I want to melt into the table. I want to go pummel him with my tray. I want to run to my room and hide. _Why the hell did I think sleeping with Bellamy would solve anything?_

 

Raven has to be able to see the crimson rivers emerging in my cheeks. I grip the edge of the table but don’t move. Her eyes ricochet from him to me in three seconds flat. _Why does she have to be so quick on the uptake?_

 

“Wait a minute. Did something happen last night when I left you and Bellamy? Did you all have a fight or _something_?” I hear the upward lilt in her voice. It almost sounds like the hope of an alternative explanation.

 

“Everything’s fine. We’re fine.” I say, gritting my teeth together.

The truth is, he barely looked at me as we walked back down the deserted hallways to my room. He waited just long enough for my door to click open before abruptly saying, “Good night, Clarke,” squeezing my hand fleetingly, and turning on his heel. So I know he thinks it was all a huge mistake. And now, on top of panicking over our survival and keeping our patients alive, I’m battling constant terror that he’s going to walk through the gates of Arkadia at any moment and not look back. Not even pause to say goodbye.

 

“You know you can talk to me, right? I saw him after you left, and you have to know that he —” Raven starts to say somewhere back in reality.

 

“Raven!” Monty calls out as he drops into a seat at our table, a bit of some reddish-colored meat hanging from his fingertips. “Kane says they think they made some progress on the nuclear reactor out on the coast east of Polis. Let’s go see if we can help out before the meeting, ok?”

 

“Yeah, sure,” she smiles at him, and with one last glance down at me, leaves.

 

********

 

The clear fluids run steadily like slithering snakes down the IV tubes and into my patient’s arm. No matter how often I see the pre-cancerous lesions swell up into raw, red hues and blister and break until yellow mucus oozes across patients’ skin and causes their bodies to writhe as they fight the accompanying fever, it doesn’t get easier.

 

The lesions hit Trikru after the black rain began to fall from the unforgiving sky a few weeks ago. Soon after, about two dozen members of the clan stumbled to our gates on exhausted horses, sleek with sweat, seeking medical attention. My mother welcomed them inside the Ark’s haven. Bellamy, Miller, Murphy, Bryan and a few others went in search of more survivors. They left decked out in the blue-gray hazmat suits we recovered from the wreckage of Mount Weather after escaping Polis Tower.

 

The rain stopped when we shut down the nearest reactors, but my mother swears we’re just in the calm eye of the storm. We see the signs of the Earth’s instability everywhere – birds periodically stumble like stones from the sky. A low-grade earthquake shook our ground last week, sending a herd of deer, several two-headed, stampeding past our gates in search of higher ground. The beautiful, neon, illuminated butterflies have disappeared. It’s common knowledge the black rain will return if we can’t shut down the rest of the reactors.

 

And Roan, although he followed us back to Arkadia after we released him from the dank dungeons of Polis, promptly refused to stay anywhere near Trikru. He blames the entire clan for the death of Ontari, for not shielding his Nightblood from the madness of Jaha. He quickly decided to make the journey back to the frosted, barren world of Ice Nation. So although he’s seen the horrors his fellow Grounders have already experienced at the hands of nuclear radiation, he swears they can’t happen to his people. He says their immunity is higher, that they’re tougher, more resilient.

 

When a scouting team found the ruins of Farm Station on the perimeter of Ice Nation territory last week, we knew we needed them as allies. We needed more pieces of the Ark to shield ourselves from the radiation the same way its powerful exterior protected us from the sun’s rays in space. Never mind that the damage of crash-landing in a mountain valley makes its walls more closely resemble fractured eggshells. It’s the best chance we have to house everyone who wants to stay safe.

 

But when the scouting team ventured inside, they discovered they weren’t alone. Bryan noticed a woman from Ice Nation wearing a crystal pendant, which belonged to his mother. His mother who died at the hands of Ice Nation when Farm Station first fell from the sky in the days of Pike.

 

In his rage and grief, Bryan pulled a gun on the woman, and before they knew it, Murphy and Bellamy were brokering a very shaky cease-fire, while Harper planned an escape route.

 

I’ve never seen Kane as livid as he was at the next Council meeting – screaming at Bryan with a vein bulging on the side of his head – about how he’d ruined our chances to use Farm Station for protection or gain Roan’s help in building more lifeboats to use to sail south. Word got out about what he did, of course. Gossip seeps quickly through the Ark community these days. Before the meeting ended, a small army gathered in the hallway outside the Council chamber, clambering for punishment, a shock-lashing at least, for Bryan's careless actions. They pushed their way in and grabbed Bryan, someone punching Miller when he tried to shield him. Kane was able to fight his way back into the hallway though. And he gripped Bryan by his collar and pulled him behind himself. He stood before the crowd, eyes wild, pivoting on the spot as he pointed the gun first at one man who lunged forward toward Bryan, then another. "I will shoot the next person who touches this man!" he roared. 

 

But everyone's outrage didn't go very far in solving anything. Because we currently don’t have enough seats for all our 548 remaining people to flee Virginia. There are only 464 spaces on Luna’s boats, but I've been working on pushing that thought from my mind.

 

Initially, I tried to talk Roan down from his anger. I demanded for him to return to Arkadia to see for himself the natural devastation all around us. I thought if he knew why we wanted to use Farm Station, if he knew we were more than willing to protect his people too, he would help us.

 

Turns out Echo had other plans.

 

The luminescent, nymph-like creature with her silky robes hanging over her tight black warrior’s clothes would not hear of making peace. She whispered to Roan about how she would gain for him the power his mother never possessed, the power Lexa died before fully embracing. So when a band of Ice Nation troops marched into the dried-up ravine near our camp, I insisted on meeting them and stood alone amongst the jagged, dark rocks. My friends were present, but out of sight. Ice Nation predictably wanted the Flame. I told them it would only work on a Nablida, that Ontari was dead and Luna had refused to have the AI placed in her brain. I tried to explain how we had much larger problems to tackle and needed to work together if we were even going to survive Earth’s next uprising. I didn’t even feel badly when Bellamy – hidden on a ridge above us – killed a Grounder who aimed his arrow at my heart.

 

“No weapons! We agreed there would be no weapons!” Kane had roared, his voice echoing off the stones as he stepped out of the shadows. “We’re trying to save all of your lives, too!”

 

Roan had swung out his arm to halt any additional violence, and, dismounting from his chocolate-colored horse, came forward at Kane’s invitation to hear him out.

 

“Like Clarke was trying to explain, we want you to help us build boats that will save all of our people and carry us to safety. We can use pieces of the Ark to protect us for a few more weeks, but if the nuclear reactors aren’t shut down fully, we’re all going to die if we stay here.”

 

“We don’t need protection from rain,” Roan argued, his horse kicking up dust as it pawed at the ground.

 

“You’ll give us the Flame now, or we’ll return in two weeks with every man, woman, and child we have and level Arkadia into the dirt,” Echo promised.

 

Still, Kane refused.

 

“Don’t you understand?” he shouted back. “There will be no Arkadia left if we don’t take action now!”

 

But it was no good.

 

And now they are coming.

 

 _“You’re the one going too far and using the same old justification, “it’s all for my people!’”_ Monty berated me when he learned what I’d done.

 

“It _is!”_ I insisted, but my gamble didn’t pay off this time.

 

We know we can’t survive a full-blown attack of every member of Ice Nation in our weakened state, even with our high-powered weapons. We have nine days to leave. So now, I work only on the plans to evacuate our people. I assist my mother with the injured and radiation-sick. And in my scraps of spare time, I try to convince Bellamy to stay with me, without letting on that his leaving would cripple me past the point of recognition. At least until last night.

 

Clearly, I’m failing on all fronts.

 

Except now I also try to ignore the fact Luna is my newest patient. Her matted, chestnut curls stick to her forehead as she moans out for water. Luna, who refused the Flame but arrived with her promised life boats earlier today, shows all the telltale signs of severe radiation poisoning.

 

********

The blurry outline of his profile swims at the edge of my vision. I’m finishing up stitches for a seven-year-old who sliced open her arm on some scrap metal. Bellamy never comes into medical unless he’s injured, so my body floods with cold dread as I hastily snip off the final piece of thread to close the injury.

 

“All done, Maisie! You did great! I’m going to cover this with a light bandage, and then just remember to keep it out of water for the next week, ok?”

 

She nods up at me with trust in her eyes, and I notice the gap between her front teeth when she smiles as she waves goodbye. Telling patients not to get their stitches wet is standard operating procedure, but now there’s hardly any point. The Grounders poisoned our main water supply before the downfall of ALIE, and the black rain made most of the other nearby water sources undrinkable.

 

My fingers toy with the edge of my shorter braid as I hurry over to where he stands in an alcove off the main operating room.

 

“Bellamy! What is it? What’s wrong?” I trace over his face hurriedly, looking for any signs of distress. He looks all right to me.

 

“I’m fine. I just,” he clears his throat, “I just wanted you to know that I’m headed out to look for Octavia.”

 

I stare at him blankly, blinking for a few seconds. My hands are on my hips. A million thoughts are in my mind, but none are finding their way out of my mouth.

 

“What – now? You can’t be serious! Luna just got here, and –”

 

“And she’s sick, Clarke. And we’re running out of time,” he takes a step closer to me, crowding me toward the wall.

 

Jackson glances over at us on his way to check on Luna’s incubation area. The steady hum of ventilation machines fills the silence between us.

 

“Bellamy, please!” I choke out, searching his eyes for any glint of hope. “I’m sorry about what happened last night. I never should have pushed you into it. But it doesn't change the fact that I need you here with me."

 

His eyes widen and a glowing smile lights up his face as he looks away, laughing slightly. I feel the warm puff of air he expels on my neck.

 

“You didn’t push me into anything, Clarke,” he says softly, gently cupping my cheek. “You gave me a good reason to come back.”

 

And just like that, the tangled knots in my stomach release, and I wrap my arms around his waist, tucking my face against the buttons of his shirt. I feel his own arms come around me, pulling me closer to him.

 

“But there are reactors we haven’t shut down yet north of here. Who knows where you’ll be going? I want to come with you!” I say into the fabric.

 

He pushes me back by my shoulders, so he can look into my face. He looks older again, a little careworn, definitely thinner and more tired than I’d like. But he's still determined and _fighting_ under the pressure of this tremendous horror show we’ve been forced to accept.

 

“No,” he says firmly. “You have to stay here and help the ones who are sick. You have to live.”

 

He’s starting to step away from me, to turn to the doors, and I feel something deep inside me snapping, shifting. It’s like those old movies we watched in Earth Skills about the huge blocks of ice crashing into the sea around the polar ice caps decades ago. It's the feeling of free fall.

 

My hands shoot out, and my grasp around his forearms is iron-tight. “You have to be back in time for the lifeboats. Promise me! You have to come back. Do you understand?”

 

There’s a long pause full of all the things we can’t say. My legs are tingling, and I fall back against the metallic wall for support. His arms catch me as the tears start to race down my cheeks.

“Promise me!” I yell out louder than I intended, and my mother’s attention homes right in on us. I see her take a step forward, but Jackson puts a restraining hand on her arm.

 

“I can’t do this without you,” I murmur in a half-defeated tone as he draws me back into his chest.

 

“I’ll do everything I can to come back in time. That’s the plan,” he murmurs into my hair before pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

 

There’s so much pain in his voice that I suddenly wish for a lifetime of falling asleep and waking up next to him just so I can hear all the thoughts we never have the time to express.

 

He grips me a little more tightly before whispering, “May we meet again,” and disentangling himself. My lips form around unspoken words as I try to burn this image of him into my memory. I don’t even have a picture of him. I should have drawn one – all the missions we’ve gone on together, all the nights spent around a fire looking up at the sky, and what the hell do I have to show for it?

 

As I release my grip on his jacket, a maddeningly loud beeping noise erupts from an oxygen monitor.

 

“Clarke!” Jackson yells. “Luna’s crashing! We need a defibrillator.”

 

********

In the half hour it takes to stabilize Luna, my heart seems to race at double speed. As soon as her pulse returns to normal and the ice blue tone fades from her face, I take off sprinting down the halls to his room, praying I’m not too late.

 

He’s left the door slightly ajar. When I see that, my faith shatters into a million pieces. I kick it open angrily and find a neatly organized space where hardly anything is missing. His burnt red bedspread is neatly tucked in at the corners, but as my eyes sweep over the bed again, I notice a folded note in the middle of it. “ _Clarke”_ it says on the front in Bellamy’s deliberate, looping scrawl.

 

_Clarke,_

_Please don’t come looking for me. This is something I have to do alone. I’ll do everything I can to come back to you. But if I don’t make it back in time, get on the boats anyway. You belong with our people – leading them – and you know that. Promise me you’ll keep fighting. And don’t forget, you’re still my brave Princess, and I’ll always love you, no matter what._

_Bellamy_

 

I can’t catch my breath. The words blur together as I finish the note, and I’m falling, collapsing onto his bed. I cry every tear I never shed until there’s no liquid left in my body. I spend the rest of the night there, watching the moon rise from his sky light and cradling my body around his pillow, which still smells like him.

 

********

I’m racing across the grass toward the tree line, the ground falling away under my feet as I pound away at it. I slipped past the guard’s floodlights and through the only remaining chink in the fence around Arkadia.

 

We’re leaving tomorrow morning, ready to sail southward, and he’s still not back. I don’t give a damn anymore about his wishes. I’m not leaving without him. For the last eight days, I’ve been under a near-constant watch by Kane, my mother, and all of my friends. They take turns eating with me, walking me to my medical shifts, even camping out in my room at night as if we were nine and having a slumber party.

 

I scared the hell out of my mother when she found me in Bellamy’s room the day after he left. I was still wearing my clothes from the day before, tucked away in a corner and slicing a pen into a sketchpad I’d left there over and over again until I cut through the dozens of thick, creamy pages and made them bloom out like some sort of distorted origami bird with a broken wing. My face was puffy and my eyes swollen from the constant crying. I hadn’t eaten in 24 hours. I’d barely moved.

 

But now I’m flying. I finally managed to break free from Jasper’s constant questions about the trip and am sprinting past tree trunks and smashing against fallen leaves as I make my way toward Ton D.C. I have no idea where Octavia might have gone, but Lincoln’s village seems like a good place to start. I heave myself up a particularly large hill, and just as I reach the summit, I run smack into Kane on night patrol. Not even half a mile from the gates of Arkadia.

 

“Woah, Clarke! Stop! Calm down,” he says in what he must think is a reassuring way as he reaches out to catch me.

 

“How did you get out of Arkadia? Who’s chasing you?” his voice is hushed as eyes rake over me frantically. He points he gun at the treetops as if Ice Nation might attack at any second.

 

“No one. I need to find Bellamy. Now!” I plead with him. “He has to be on the boats.”

 

He lowers the weapon and sighs at me looking, well, devastated if I’m being perfectly honest.

 

“Clarke, you know I can’t let you go roaming through the woods risking your life! Ice Nation wants us dead, and we have no idea where to find him. He knows where we’re headed. I hope he makes it back in time, too. But if he doesn’t, he’ll follow when he can. He’s part of the Guard, and he’s smart, he’s resourceful. He _will_ survive. You have to believe that.”

 

He’s looking at me in such a fatherly way I want to scream.

 

“Kane, you don’t understand! I have to go find him! I wasn’t there for him before – I closed the dropship door on him. I sent him into Mount Weather, and I left him here when he needed me. He's done nothing but try to protect me, and this is not happening again! It’s not!”

 

I know I sound desperate and half-crazy. I don’t care. He puts a hand on my shoulder, and the gaze he offers is one of pure sadness. “I do understand, Clarke. Believe me. Because I love him, too.”

 

I wring my hands in frustration, breaking away from him and turning around in a circle because I’ve lost my bearings on which way is north.

 

"Then you have to do something!" I screech. 

 

“Listen to me, Clarke. We leave at noon tomorrow. But I do understand how you feel, and I promise you - I will send a team from the guard into the woods tomorrow morning to see if he’s nearby. It’s the best I can offer right now. I have to think about everyone, and if he’s not back by then, we’ll have to go on without him. You must try to understand that."

 

I try to push past him deeper into the forest, but he throws a restraining arm in front of me.

 

“I will NOT lose you too, Clarke! Is that clear? Think about your mother. Think about all of your friends. Think about everything we’ve been through to survive to this point. You deserve a chance at life, Clarke! And I’ll be damned if I let you get killed out there tonight. So get back to camp – that’s an order!” he demands.

 

Nobody seems to understand that I have no real life – no life worth living – if Bellamy's not in it.

 

“Go float yourself, Kane! He’s like your son, and that’s the best you can do!” I spit out, and I can see in his face my words hit their mark. “You should have been looking for him immediately, but no, everyone spent their time arguing he had the right to go save Octavia! And she wants nothing more than to team up with Ice Nation and kill us all because Arkadia voted for Pike!”

 

I don’t get more than three steps farther into the trees before the electric shock hits my side, and I’m falling once more. And then the world goes black.


	4. Return of the Butterflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to board the lifeboats, one way or another, and see what lies waiting on the other side.

_“I leave the gas on,_

_Walk the alleys in the dark,_

_Sleep with candles burning,_

_I leave the door unlocked._

_I'm weaving a rope and_

_Running all the red lights._

_Did I get your attention?_

_'Cause I'm sending_

_All the signs that_

_The clock is ticking,_

_And I'll be giving_

_My two weeks._

_Pick your favorite_

_Shade of black._

_You'd best_

_Prepare a speech._

_Say something funny,_

_Say something sweet._

_But don't say_

_That you loved me.”_

_~“I’m Still Breathing,” Katy Perry_

 

The dead are lying in neat rows, body bags tied with thick rope along the only dirt road leading into Arkadia. I walk up and down, gazing at the shapes of the men, women, and children lost to black rain. Suddenly, there’s a slight movement at the end of the row. Out of the corner of my eye, I swear I see the white-gray shroud of one of the men move. A book rests by his head, I move closer, walk faster, peering over his muscular arm to catch a glimpse of its peeling, black title, _The Iliad._ The outline of the oxygen mask is still visible through the cloth; Jaha didn’t even bother to have it removed when giving orders about the ceremonial burning. The faintest twitch of the man’s foot makes me jump, and I look down in horror as I hear his deep voice, somehow through the mask, through the cloth, through the veil that separates the living from the dead, “Clarke . . . Clarke. Please. You promised." 

 

I wake up screaming his name, hair matted to the sides of my neck. My mother, right beside me, cradles me to her chest like I’m a little girl and rocks me gently.

 

“Clarke, baby, shhhh. It was just a nightmare. You’re ok. You’re ok, and he's ok,” she says soothingly.

 

“You don’t know that!” I try to push away from her, but her grip is firm. “We didn’t shut down those last two reactors, so if Ice Nation doesn’t attack him, the radiation will!” I protest, sucking in air at double speed as my heart rate remains elevated.

 

As she sighs, I notice her face carries extra etched-in lines now. The constant worry, the attempts to give everyone proper medical attention, and the fear of not being able to move us all to a safe place are taking their toll.

 

“Clarke, I know how much this hurts. But Marcus will bring him back if he can. And Bellamy’s strong! He’ll find a way back to us - I believe that,” she cups my chin in her hand as she says it.

 

I jerk away from her, the bed sheet twisting around my ankles as I propel myself out of my bed. Rage boils within me; I’m at the tipping point of my patience with all the hypocrisy that’s interwoven into every piece of the fabric of this new world we’re creating and destroying.

 

“You let Jaha kill dad!” I yell bitterly. “You don’t know. You don’t understand what it means to want to save someone no matter what it costs! No matter how many lives are lost along the way!” I’m openly sobbing now, wiping tears away from my face. “You go on and on about doing the right thing and morals and ethics and all this bullshit, but did you stop Pike from rising to power? From killing Lincoln and all those Grounders? Did you stop Octavia from escaping down that damn tower the way you’re trying to stop me from escaping? No, no you didn’t! And you know what? Because nobody who was _actually in charge_ did anything, Bellamy thinks every damn thing is his fault!”

 

Mom looks like she’s been struck across the face, pale and frozen.

 

“You know it’s not that simple!” her voice rises rapidly. “Marcus and I didn’t have any power inside these walls! Every move we made was being watched, but we still put up a resistance! You know we don’t live in a black and white world where I can just do something because I think – “

 

“You were the chancellor!” I bellow. “And you didn’t even come after me when I left camp! But what should I expect, really?” I scoff. “You learned from Jaha to always sacrifice everything – even your family – when you’re trying to save _your people_. Well you know what? I tried it your way! And what has it gotten me? Genocide. Murder. The hatred of my friends. Instability. Another fucking apocalypse! Don't you get it? - I can’t be like you anymore! I need to find Bellamy!”

 

I step into my boots and wrench open the door, ready to beg Kane to let me go with the Guard heading out on its final scouting mission this morning. But, the needle hits my bloodstream before I even make it through the doorframe.

 

I collapse in my mother’s arms, vaguely wondering why the hell I’m so fragile, and everyone else is so strong.

 

“I can’t let you go, baby. I can’t lose you, too. Not again. I’m sorry, I’m so, so, sorry” she whimpers, stroking my hair as the sedative begins to take effect. My last thought before I drift away is that I’ll board the lifeboats the same way I did the dropship – unconscious.  

 

********

 

The walls are moving. I swing my legs over the edge of a cot, and the ground lurches up to meet me as I touch my heels tentatively down on it. I blink once, twice. An inordinate amount of golden light floods the wood-paneled walls all around me, and I flop back onto the cot, dazed. My head feels heavy; the energy in my body seems thick and muted somehow.

 

It takes a few seconds for my brain to snap into focus, to understand what the gentle rocking sensation means: I’m aboard one of the lifeboats. My mother gave me a sedative and abandoned me in this cabin.

 

Glancing around, I notice one small chest of drawers bolted down to the floor. I stand up again and walk carefully over to it, not trusting my legs yet. I wrench open a drawer and find my few clothes already inside. I pull on a fresh outfit, trying not to fall over as the boat passes over a particularly large wave. I push open the one porthole's shutters. There’s nothing to see but a long stretch of blue. Sky and ocean swirl together with no land in sight. I have no idea how long we’ve been sailing.

 

 _Bellamy_.

 

His face floods my mind, and I hurry to the door, pulling on the handle and half expecting it to be locked. Fortunately, it isn’t. I push it open and wander down a long, narrow hallway toward a set of stairs that leads up into daylight. A heavy dose of salt coats the air.

 

Harper spots me first when I emerge on the deck and rushes over.

 

“Clarke! Are you all right? How are you feeling?” she places a reassuring hand on my shoulder and smiles at me.

 

“I’m fine. I’m fine,” I repeat, squinting my eyes and spinning around slowly, taking in the water from every direction. “How long have we been at sea? Did the Guard find Bellamy?” I ask in a rush.

 

Harper’s cheeks fall a few centimeters, and that’s all I need to know.

 

“We just left the Potomac River about an hour ago. We’re in the Atlantic Ocean now, headed toward Florida. We’ve been out here about six hours, maybe seven,” she says kindly. “They didn’t find him in the woods. I’m so sorry, Clarke.”

 

“It’s not your fault,” I say quietly. “Where’s my mother?”

 

“Uh, I think she’s with Kane and Jaha in the captain’s suite at the front of the boat. I can take you there if you want.”

 

I put up my hand in front of the sun to block it from obstructing my vision and tell her I’ll find my own way there.

 

I’ve taken exactly four steps when a gagging noise has me spinning around in search of its origin. A glass mason jar – presumably a container for Monty’s moonshine – rolls toward the bow of the boat away from Jasper as he throws up over its side.

 

“He’s been going at the alcohol a little too hard,” Harper whispers to me. “But something tells me he won’t want another drink for a long, _long_ time after this.”

 

Right on cue, Jasper begins to moan. “I’m dying! I think I’m dying.”

 

Scoffing, Murphy walks over to him with a mug of water. “You’re not dying! You’re hung over and seasick because you’ve been too focused on living and not focused enough on surviving.”

 

Jasper eyes him warily, but takes the mug and sips from it slowly. “Why are you being nice to me?” he asks suspiciously.

 

“Because the pool of people left on Earth who aren’t complete assholes is getting smaller and smaller,” he says, smirking.

 

Jasper nods slightly, seemingly accepting this answer.

 

“Glad to see he hasn’t changed much,” Harper mutters to me.

 

Murphy turns away from Jasper, and his eyes land on me.

 

“Ah, looks like the Princess is finally up from her beauty sleep! Did you find your boyfriend yet? Or is he – oh I don’t know – on a different boat maybe?” he throws up both arms and looks around as if genuinely confused. “Nah, that’s probably not it. I bet he’s back at the Ark undergoing some human radiation trials. Because isn’t that what you like to do, Clarke? Decide who lives and who dies?”

 

“Murphy!” Monty storms up to him from out of nowhere, shoving his shoulder. “Shut the hell up!”

 

“Bite me,” Murphy retorts. “I didn’t see your ass strapped down while they experimented on you!”

 

He stalks away angrily toward Emori, who, oblivious to the whole situation, is standing about a hundred feet away from us, staring out at some seagulls diving into the frothy waves below.

 

I reach my hand toward the railing behind me and grip it tightly, a memory hitting me sharply as the sedation wears off.

 

********

 

Jackson and Nyko wanted to run human trails on Sky Crew to see how much radiation we could be exposed to without irrevocable harm. They didn’t believe ALIE’s warning that the black rain would affect everyone on Earth equally and wanted to test the limits of our medical science. My mother fundamentally opposed the idea, calling them barbarians. But Jaha, with his constant ramblings about how each choice we made caused more unanticipated ripples in the pond of life, felt differently. He convinced the Council to overrule her, believing a few human trials could prove useful if done quickly without hitting a level that would seriously harm or kill the patients. “We have to try something to know what we’re up against!” he’d argued to Kane. “Nobody understands better than me that the decisions you face just whittle you down piece by piece. But we have to be smart and try to survive this Hell.” He wondered if Murphy – whose body already processed solar radiation differently from his time in space – could prove a viable candidate because he’d also soaked up radiation in the Dead Zone’s sweeping desert. Plus, his body hadn’t been altered in any way by the chip, making him a very attractive choice. Raven was still working on exactly what traces the chip left behind in the human brain.

 

When I broached the subject with Murphy one night at dinner, he looked at me with a mixture of shocked disbelief, throwing down his fork and knife with a loud clatter. I emphasized it would be the right thing to do for the greater good and that he wouldn’t be hurt, although I’m not sure I even believed it. He bluntly told me that, after making it out of Polis alive, “doing the right thing could kiss my ass.” But he came around when Asher, a six-year-old boy who grew up four cabins down from his on the Ark, began losing clumps of hair after droplets of unexpected rain fell on his blonde, curly locks while he kicked a soccer ball around the vegetable patches.

 

Yet as he walked into the gleaming white pool to cleanse himself before my mother started taking samples of his blood, he turned to face me on the steps, and his face screwed up into a mask of pure hatred. I knew in that moment I represented everything he despised about the Ark once more. Privilege. Power. Elitism. I was the evil Princess all over again. “Maybe you’re forgetting the last time you saved us, I was saving you!” he screamed at me, his features contorted. “I am not forgetting!” I choked out, falling to my knees. I knew how different I was from the innocent, naïve girl who begged Bellamy not to open the dropship door because the air outside could be toxic. What the hell had I become – volunteering a friend who’d saved my life to face all sorts of toxicities now?

 ********

Later that night, I went looking for Bellamy, wracked by my own guilt. His room was empty, so I tried an old meeting space Lincoln had converted into a training area for the Guard. When I knocked, Bellamy’s voice shouted out, “Come in!” I pushed the door open but had to take several steps into the dimly lit room before my eyes adjusted to the scene before me.

 

Bellamy stood alone near a punching bag, hitting it relentlessly, the dull smacking sound echoing around us. Beads of sweat dripped off his dark curls onto his chest, which I had a clear view of because he was shirtless. And gorgeous. Perfect, in fact. His skin shown like bronze, and every ab muscle was well-defined and beautiful.

“What’s up?” he asked in a clipped tone, continuing to punch in a sort of rhythm.

 

“I – I – I wanted to talk to you about the . . . ” I was mesmerized by watching him bend and pivot, launch his fists toward a lower part of the bag, only to spring up and solidly pulverize a higher spot.

 

“Can you stop for a minute?” I managed.

 

“Oh, yeah, sorry.”

 

He tugged a tan shirt over his head and came over to the table where I sat, folding his arms across his chest. I told him about Murphy’s reaction to the trials, about my growing conviction that nobody knew what they were doing or what their choices would cost us.

 

“I’m turning into someone I don’t recognize, Bellamy! How can we do this? Who are we going to be on the other side of this if we’re willing to sacrifice up our friends? I don’t even know if we’re worth saving anymore.”

 

He sighed, running his hand over his face.

 

“The trials won’t permanently hurt him, and he’s volunteered to do it. We have to live with every choice we make, Clarke. But we’re going to live.”

 

“You still have hope?” the tears streaked my face as I looked up at him, desperate for anything positive to believe in.

 

“Are we still breathing?” he replied with the ghost of his old boyish grin.

 

“Not for much longer,” I started to cry in earnest.

 

He reached out to place a comforting hand on my shoulder. It was so unexpected, but so warm, and it made me feel safe. I covered his hand with my own and lay my cheek against it, wanting to keep him near me for a few seconds longer. I heard his intake of breath. And that’s when I knew we had outgrown whatever we had been and didn’t know how to become what we actually were.

 

********

As I sit on the bed in my little cabin, all I can hope for is that he’s found Indra or Octavia, or at least some kinder members of Trikru who stayed behind. I pray he will live through any nuclear fallout we failed to prevent.

 

*********

The forests with their canopy coverings, birdsong, and dappled light are gone. I never thought I would miss them, but I do. They have been replaced by sticky heat and itchy, peeling skin. Not to mention the fat, buzzing mosquitoes. The ground is a light brown silted sand in many places. The ocean is turquoise, and the sun blazes no matter how early we wake.

 

Luna died during the journey here, so now she can never take the Flame and ascend as a leader of her people. Kane keeps the clear plastic oval which contains unknown multitudes with him at all times. We found the Water Clan she promised would take us in, and it did. We live in its village of thatched huts and woven mats and speared sunfish.  

 

********

This new world wasn’t made for me. I throw up the whole first week after we land. The salt in the seafood makes my face puffy, and my ankles swell. I lose weight though my mother brings cup after cup of fresh water to my cracked lips. I remain on the warm mat in my tent most of the time, locked deep inside fitful dreams Bellamy flits in and out of. I wake with a start most of the time, reaching for his body which should be right next to mine but isn’t.

 

Two months after we arrive, we feel the earth shake dramatically and see the fiery blood orange explosions decorate the sky. At least one, but maybe two, of the reactors have gone off. We don’t know how bad the damage is. We don’t know if Ice Nation even survived it.

 

******** 

It’s hard to find a point to much of anything after that happens. Weeks pass, with each day indistinguishable from the next. Until I come across Maisie splashing in the shallow waves along the beach around twilight in the late summer and leave her my old sketchbook. I know she likes to draw. “I don’t think I’ll be needing it anymore,” I answer her questioning expression. 

 

“It’s a beautiful day. Want to see if we can find some oranges in the citrus grove?” Harper tries her hand at being cheerful as we sit outside with Raven, sorting through several hundred pieces of clothing to redistribute to our survivors this fall.

 

I blink slowly, looking around at the green marshes stretching out flat and still – not a breath of wind disturbs them – for miles toward the horizon.

 

“You think this is beautiful?” I ask her disbelievingly, getting up from my perch on the wooden bench. My neck muscles feel tight, and I’m starting to get a headache from staring at the same thing for so long.

 

“Clarke, you’re scaring me,” she says gently. “You don’t eat with us anymore. You keep cutting back your hours in medical. I haven’t seen you laugh, or even smile, since before we sailed.”

 

I just shrug.

 

“Listen,” Raven chimes in with a more no-nonsense tone. “I know this isn’t what we wanted to happen. I know we thought we would find a way to stay in Arkadia, but this is our life now. At least for the foreseeable future. I think Bellamy would have wanted –”

 

“Don’t!” I spit out, throwing the ugly black sweater into her lap. “Don’t you dare talk about him like he’s gone!”

 

I walk quickly away from them both, away from the oppressive Grounder village and toward the direction of the only patch of woodland I’ve been able to find here. When I reach the cover of the trees, I rest against the scratchy bark of a trunk, allowing my hand to rest on my stomach, which flutters like a net full of butterflies is trapped inside.

 

I spent my whole seventeenth year in solitary confinement. I spent my eighteenth year on the ground. I never went to medical for the standard IUD fitting each young woman receives when she reaches the age of majority. I pull my long, loose top away from my stomach as I feel something swim inside me like a baby seahorse. Someone. Someone like him. I close my eyes and remember his kind brown ones which looked at me full of love and trust and warmth and loyalty. I see the rough edges of his smile the first time he stepped too close to me and called me a brave princess.

 

When I can breathe normally again, I trek slowly through the dense undergrowth until I reach a shady, moist area where the glassy, dark black berries grow. _Belladonna_. I pick about twenty pieces of the shiny and mysterious fruit.

 

“ _If you want forgiveness, fine, I’ll give that to you. You’re forgiven_ ,” his words echo in my mind as I slump down into the dirt and lean my back against a knotted cypress tree. “You won’t forgive me for this, Bellamy. You won’t forgive me . . . ” I murmur, pressing the berries to my lips.


	5. The Other Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke's pregnancy becomes common knowledge, and something unexpected provides a breath of hope.

_“Did you see any action, did you make any friends?_

_Would you like some affection, before I leave again?_

_I've been walking behind you, since you've been able to see._

_There's never been any reason for you to think about me._

_Did you have any bad dreams? Did you break any glass?_

_Would you be my companion? Is there even a chance?_

_You've been talking in circles, since I've been able to cry._

_There's never been any reason for never telling me why_

_Save my life I'm going down for the last time.”_

_~ “Never Been Any Reason,” Head East_

 

Footsteps crash through the underbrush, and my eyes snap up to roam the trees. I stand with some difficulty, yanking my shirt down and reaching for the gun held securely on my hip.

 

“Clarke! CLARKE!” Raven’s shrill voice slices through the air and sends a few birds cawing as they spread their wings and soar toward the ocean.

 

I’m frozen on the spot, one hand leaning against the tree. I let the berries fall through my fingers into the tangle of leaves and bramble below. Kicking them away would be pointless because my mom is close enough to see them plummet like tiny bullets.

 

She reaches me first, face distraught, reaching out to grip my shoulders hard. “Clarke! What are you doing? What are these?” She crouches down and picks up a few of the plump, dark berries.

 

Raven, panting, hurries up behind her, holding her side. Her leg’s in a brace Monty engineered for her before we left Arkadia. He claimed it would be better for mobility on softer soil, and it does seem to work well. They found me in less than ten minutes.

 

“It’s Belladonna,” she gasps out, gazing over my mother’s shoulder. “They’re poisonous if you take too many.”

 

“Oh my God. Baby,” she’s staring at me like she doesn’t recognize me at all anymore. It’s the same mask of horror she wore when she first woke up from the City of Light, and I cradled her in my arms. But something else is blended in now, real fear. And pity. “Clarke,” she breathes, gathering me up into her arms. I allow myself to slump against her slim but strong frame. “Nothing could be so bad that you would need to take these. I love you, do you hear me? I love you! I’d do anything for you!” She shakes me a little bit until I nod against her shoulder. “I’m going to help you get through this. But you need to talk to me. What’s going on?” she’s stroking my hair now, smoothing out its frizzy tangles with her fingers.

 

My face feels hot, and my entire nose is so stuffy I can’t breathe through it anymore. I don’t say anything. I gaze over her shoulder at Raven, who’s looking right at me, steady. Present. I thought she might look away, slant her eyes away to look at the marshlands because this is just too raw. Too exposed and frightening and sickening. But she’s so strong, and I should have realized she’d be there for me.

 

“It’s about him, right? About Bellamy?” she asks in a soft tone.

 

I let myself nod ever so slightly.

 

She sighs, reaching out to pat my shoulder a few times.

 

“I know this is hard right now. And I didn’t mean to sound flippant before. I care about him too – a lot. I want him to make it down here with Octavia. You know I’ve been checking in with the Ark’s radio systems three times a day in case they make it back there.”

 

“What was the last word?” my mother springs to attention, whipping around to look at Raven. “You haven’t given me the afternoon report yet.”

 

Now Raven looks at the ground, shoving her hands into her jean pockets. “Radio silence,” she admits glumly. “The reactor on the Virginia border was near a radio tower, at least that’s what the map showed. I think it’s interfering with the signal, so we can’t talk to the people left behind.”

 

Sixty-five souls. When we'd left Arkadia, sixty-five people stayed behind. Elected to, really. They were the ones who had lost parents, children, or spouses when the Ark crashed or had done unspeakable things under ALIE’s control. They didn’t want a second chance. They wanted it to be over. The City of Light was a brief salvation for them, a numbing sensation for all their bottled up rage and despair. But even that was gone now.

 

So on departure day, they marched down to the boats and waved goodbye, said the traveler’s blessing, and returned to Arkadia, locking the gates behind them. It’s uncertain how long the Ark will keep the radiation from seeping into their bloodstreams and lungs, stifling their lives. It could take weeks, maybe months.

 

Raven kicks at a rock with her uninjured leg then takes in a deep breath. “I know you think we’re offering you castle-in-the-sky promises, Clarke, but really . . . if anyone . . . if anyone could come back, he could.”

 

“You don’t understand!” the words erupt from me with a force that startles my mom. She jumps back for a second.

 

“Ok, then explain,” mom demands firmly. But then she sees my hand drift unconsciously toward my stomach, and her eyes widen.

 

She quickly pats down my stomach, noticing how it’s firmer, rounder. She pulls up my shirt and sees how the skin is pulled tight in places with lavender lines marking the spots where it’s stretched. Her warm, hazel eyes lock on mine.

 

“Oh. Wow,” she breathes softly. “How far along are you?”

 

I try to tick off the weeks in my mind, but I find large spans of time are blurry and missing from my memory.

 

“I-I-I don’t know,” I stammer, suddenly alarmed. “It was right before we left, like two weeks before maybe.”

 

“Did not see that one coming,” Raven stares at my stomach in wonderment. Then she shakes her head quickly, as if clearing it. “You said two weeks before we left. That makes it . . . four and a half months, Abby.”

 

“And it’s Bellamy’s, right, honey?” my mom’s voice is soft, almost reverent.

 

“Would you rather it be somebody else’s?” I can’t help the annoyance creeping into my tone.

 

“No, sweetheart. I wouldn’t. I don’t think you could find a better match anywhere on Earth,” she replies earnestly.

 

“But he’s gone!” I stammer, falling into Raven’s open arms and letting her hug me.

 

“Shhh, shhhh,” she hushes me. “Clarke, you’re going to have the first baby since we landed! That’s amazing. It’s historic. It’s going to be beautiful. Everyone is going to be thrilled, including you. You’ll see. You really have something to live for now.”

 

********

We walk back to the Water Clan’s village together, and my mom drops me off at the thatched hut I share with Harper and Raven.

 

“I just want you to know I believe in him. And you’ve got to have faith, too. Hold on to hope. It’s gotten us this far, hasn’t it?” she says, wrapping me in a warm side embrace.

 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” I reply.

 

“Good. We’re going to keep working on that radio, and I expect you back in medical tomorrow to keep up your internship. We’ll talk about the plans over dinner tonight, agreed?” she asks.

 

“Yeah, sounds good,” I smile a little.

 

“That’s my girl. I've got to get an assortment of prenatal vitamins ready for you to start taking immediately. We want to do everything we can to keep you and the baby healthy,” she says, voice infused with confidence, as she turns to leave.

 

“Wait, mom?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Can Kane join us? I want to get to know him better. You know, on a more personal level.”

 

Her smile is absolutely radiant. “I think that can be arranged.”

 

********

The days slowly melt into each other. Each time my mind floods with negative thoughts, I try to breathe deeply and release them. It’s hard, especially when they come thick and fast. I intern in medical most afternoons. Jackson and my mom are starting me with the less complicated tasks like setting sprained ankles, threading butterfly stitches, and tending to small outbreaks of illness. I know I could do far more advanced procedures, but I’m ok with taking it slow for now. Honestly, a lot of days I find myself tired, and I can’t stay on my feet for extended stretches of time.

 

The chickenpox epidemic hits hardest amongst our band of spirited Earth children, who constantly kiss and kick and share food with each other. I spend a few sleepless nights swabbing their little bodies – peppered with angry, red bumps – with calamine lotion. Quarantine is not a concept that goes over well with them, and they keep trying to sneak into each other’s huts to play while they are still contagious.

 

I’m in the midst of wrapping bandages, a blissfully mindless task, when a little boy with a mop of dark curls sneaks right past my legs toward a cot in the corner of the room. Maisie is resting there, finally sleeping after I spent an hour blotting calamine lotion across her skin and telling her stories about my life in the sky to distract her from incessant scratching. It’s only his step on a squeaky wooden floor plank that alerts me to his presence.

 

“Asher!” I yelp, swirling around. “You know you’re not supposed to be in here, buddy. You could get sick. You’ve got to leave now, ok?”

 

He clutches a honey-and-jam sandwich, but he’s thankfully spot-free. I reach for his hand to lead him out of the room, but he shrinks back from me.

 

“I wanted to see Maisie. I brought her a sandwich,” he says proudly, waving it in front of him like a banner.

 

“Well, that was very nice of you,” I say sweetly. “But she’s sick right now and will be for a few more days. I don’t want you to get sick, too. That’s why you’ve got to leave now.”

 

“But she’s my girlfriend. Who’ll take care of her if I’m not here?” he pipes up earnestly. I notice a smattering of light freckles across his face, and my heart aches.

 

I try to smile at him, even though I feel tears prickling at my eyes.

 

“I will, Asher. I promise. So why don’t you leave the sandwich next to her bed, and as soon as she’s better, I’ll come find you. Does that sound ok?”

 

He shifts from one foot to the other, considering my proposal. But then he nods and lets me walk him out.

 

Despite everything that’s happened, these kids have remained sweet and innocent somehow. They still find ample reasons to shriek with glee, make flower crowns, splash in the waves, and even fall in puppy love. They believe in the future wholeheartedly, though we’ve received nothing but mounting evidence to refute our place in it. It both astounds me and causes tiny stirrings of hope to flutter in my chest.

 

Jasper wanders in a few minutes later.

 

“What’s up?” I ask him. “Are you feeling ok?”

 

“Yeah, I’m good,” he replies, picking up some bandages from the table in front of me and beginning to roll them. “I just wanted to check on you.”

 

A wave of emotion rises up in my throat at these simple words. I know how much he still misses Maya, but I’ve also seen how far he’s come since we moved down here.

 

“I’m doing all right today, thanks,” I smile at him.

 

“Good,” he says firmly, nodding his head, “Good.”

 

That night I wander through the marshes, pushing aside spindly, spiky plants in shades of green I’ve never seen before. My boots make squelching noises in the muck, and it’s harder to move the deeper in I get. But I keep walking toward the two, small flashing lights out in the distance. No matter how far I travel, they don’t seem to get any closer. I pant and stumble suddenly as a large, lumpy obstacle appears before me.

 

It’s a blue-grey hazmat suit with a person inside, limbs akimbo. I collapse to my knees, pushing the body face up so I can see whose it is. A rover is roaring nearby, speeding toward me, headlights blazing. Panic-stricken, I shake the body, using my sleeve to wipe away the misty fog shrouding the face from view. The constellation of freckles jumps into view right as my eyes pop open.

 

I muffle my low shriek with my hand immediately, panting heavily and wiping sweat from my forehead.

 

Harper sighs and rolls over onto her stomach. She’s a heavy sleeper. But as I look to my left, I see Raven’s pale face and hauntingly dark eyes staring back at me.

 

“Nightmare?” she whispers knowingly.

 

“Yeah,” I nod.

 

“Was it about Bellamy?”

 

“Yeah. He was in the marsh, in his hazmat suit . . . dead,” I push out the last word between gritted teeth.

 

“It was just a dream, Clarke. Try to go back to sleep, all right?” her voice is kind, and she’s watching me carefully. I know she doesn’t want to wake Harper up.

 

I nod again, pushing myself down under my blankets and trying to fluff up my pillow.

 

“Raven?” my voice carries just far enough in the dark stillness.

 

“Mmm-hmm?”

 

“I should have told him I loved him a long time ago. I should have told him every day," my voice is so small. "I wasn’t . . . I didn’t . . . deserve him. He didn’t know, Raven, because I didn’t tell him.”

 

She props herself up on her elbow and pushes her long hair over her shoulder. She glances at Harper once before whispering, “I promise you, Clarke. He knew. We all knew. Your love is magnetic. It could fill up a room.”

********

“All I’m saying is you’re an artist, Clarke. So draw. Dream up the future you want to see here. Draw the buildings. Eventually, we’ll build them,” Miller is saying. Maybe I shouldn’t have opened my mouth to complain about the shoddy craftsmanship of some of the huts. But he’s experienced the rainwater dripping onto his head as he sleeps too, so he understands.

 

“You think the Grounders are going to let us redesign their village?” Murphy asks, his tone flat and deadpan.

 

“Maybe they would if _some people_ showed them a little bit more appreciation,” Emori answers, elbowing him in the ribs.

 

“Hey! I gave them some of the fish I caught, didn’t I?” Murphy argues back, smiling at her and drawing her closer into his side.

 

“Kane told me today the Water Clan wants us to build our own village in the spring if we intend to stay here. That or try to go home to Arkadia,” Monty supplies.

 

A murmuring breaks out at these words. The Water Clan, while tolerating our presence out of respect for Luna and its desire to not see more lives lost, has also been somewhat standoffish and aloof. They don’t interfere in our Council meetings, and we have no political entanglements with them beyond trading, helping treat their ill, and allowing our children to play together. No Grounder clan wants to align themselves too closely with Sky Crew, and Lexa’s old protections only stretch so far. Yet going home seems like a whimsical fairy tale. I don’t let myself visualize what the woods around Arkadia must look like now.

 

“Mmm, maybe I will work on some drawings,” I say to Miller, tossing the leftover scraps from my meal into the crackling fire and attempting to stand up.

 

He jumps up next to me as I try to push off against the log bench, wrapping a hand around my elbow and placing the other on my back to help me get to my feet. My stomach is beginning to balloon out in a much more noticeable way. Bryan calls it “the little basketball” and pats it lightly whenever he sees me. In normal circumstances, I may have pushed his hand away. But without Bellamy around, I find myself more drawn to the comfort of my friends.

 

“Do you want me to walk back up with you?” Miller asks.

 

“No, that’s ok. You stay here. I’ll be fine.”

 

I leave the light banter and teasing of my friends seated around the fire pit. I ball up my foil wrap, crushing it in my fist until it’s stiff and tight as I stride away. It contains a few leftover bones from the fish dinner Murphy and Emori grilled. We eat a lot of fish now.

 

I breathe slowly, in and out, as I head up the trail back to my small home. The stars are glittering in almost a friendly way, and I pause to gaze up at the vastness of space above me. Back on the Ark, the blackness stretched in all directions when the Earth’s orbit blocked the sun. Up there, space seemed more impersonal, much more vast, and utterly terrifying if you stared out from the viewing deck for too long. We were in a silver, circular prison, soaring around a mythical blue-green gem. In my mind, that gem was paradise. I grew up listening to wonderful stories about it passed down from my grandparents, whose own grandparents had lived there. I dreamed about Earth all the time. I sketched its glens and mountains, its forests and seas. I imagined floating in a lake as warm water lapped at my toes, blissfully suspended while looking up at swaying leaves.

 

But I never dreamt of being a single parent. I don’t want to do this without Bellamy. I can't. I need him. If there were a word more powerful than need, I would use it.

 

When I was fifteen, I remember coming across an ancient book in the oxygen-controlled library with Wells. It was locked away behind glass, and the librarian needed to give us a special key to reach it.

 

“Oh, that’s a good one. Dark and gothic,” he’d said when I pulled it down carefully from its box of honor.

 

Its golden letters were peeling off the cover, and its pages smelled deliciously archaic.

 

“Wuthering Heights,” I said, “What’s it about?”

 

“It’s about an orphaned boy named Heathcliff who’s taken in by a man who lives on a big estate in England. But Heathcliff falls in love with his adopted sister Cathy, and his adopted brother hates him. Heathcliff can’t be with Cathy for a lot of different reasons, and it starts to drive him crazy.”

 

“Ha!” I remember snorting. “That sounds a little too dramatic for me,” and I shrugged nonchalantly and walked away.

 

But I came back to the bright, white library before dinner – and every day for the next two weeks – until I’d finished every word of it. One sentence remains burned in my memory even though the book is long gone; it probably burst into flames when the Exodus Ship broke away from the Ark. “ _He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”_

 

A momentary impulse takes over me as I stand still at the top of the trail. And then suddenly, instead of walking over to my hut, I veer to the right toward the Council’s chamber where Raven has set up the radio. I have to try to contact them again. I make sure all the wires are properly connected and tune to the right frequency, station 7.

 

“Clarke to Ark Station. Clarke to Ark Station. Come in Ark Station. Ark survivors have safely reached the Water Clan. We are awaiting news from you. Please come in,” I say, trying to keep my voice level as the static hums.

 

And then there’s a crackling noise. A sputtering. I spin the dial rapidly, trying to zero in on the exact frequency needed to hear something.

 

“Ark Station?” I demand more loudly. “Ark Station? Can you hear me? Come in!”

 

The cracking continues, and a few words float across the airwaves.

 

“ . . . They are . . . to the gates. I repeat . . . they are . . . looks like one of Lexa’s . . . is with . . . ”

 

“Oh my God. Oh my God,” I mumble.

 

“Can you hear me? Ark Station! Can you hear me? I can’t make out what you’re saying! It’s Clarke. Ark Station come in! Come in!”

 

The radio makes a gurgling noise then falls silent.

 

“Ugh!” I yell in rage, picking up a rare glass cup someone left on the table and throwing it against the wood wall with a satisfying smash.

 

I hurry over to the doorway as quickly as I can manage. 

 

“RAVEN!” I scream as soon as I feel the cool night air on my face. “MONTY! MILLER! MURPHY! JASPER! HARPER! GET UP HERE NOW!” I pant into the doorframe, clutching my stomach, where a persistent kicking begins. I woke up my baby.

 

I continue screaming their names until I see a flash of the black Guard uniforms glinting through the foliage.


	6. Let's Call It Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some unexpected visitors arrive at the Water Clan's gate.

  _“_ _It's like you're screaming, and no one can hear._

_You almost feel ashamed_

_That someone could be that important,_

_That without them, you feel like nothing._

_No one will ever understand how much it hurts._

_You feel hopeless like nothing can save you._

_And when it's over, and it's gone,_

_You almost wish that you could have all that bad stuff back,_

_So that you could have the good._

_Yellow diamonds in the light,_

_Now we’re standing side by side._

_As your shadow crosses mine,_

_What it takes to come alive._

_It’s the way I’m feeling I just can’t deny,_

_But I’ve gotta let it go._

_We found love in a hopeless place.”_

_~”We Found Love,” Rihanna_

 

Days pass. Arkadia never comes back into radio range.

 

“One more time. Tell me what you heard,” Raven asks me, and I have to repeat, for probably the fifteenth time, the string of words, which reached me and me alone.

 

“I still think it’s obvious that someone was coming to the gates,” Monty says, brow furrowed and hands on his hips as he paces around the Council chamber.

 

“But someone unexpected showed up, too. Someone our people didn’t see coming,” Miller insists from his seat against the wall.

 

Murphy chimes in from where he’s leaning against the doorway. “What I don’t understand is what Lexa has to do with it. I mean, I watched her get shot. She’s gone. And all the religious Grounder freaks think their commanders will be preserved in the Flame. But you can’t resurrect people, so honestly, it’s all a load of –”

 

He’s cut off by Harper’s unexpected, “MURPHY! Will. You. Please. Shut. Up.”

 

“It’s the truth. I’m sorry you can’t handle it,” he argues back.

 

“Yeah?” she swings around, loose, blonde hair slicing through the air, and strides over to him, invading his personal space. “Well, you want to know what else is true? You’re still an epic dick.”

 

This makes him laugh; I don’t know why.

 

She and Raven are exchanging glances, but I try my best not to look at either of them directly. The baby kicks staccato notes into my ribs like a second, rapid heartbeat, and I unexpectedly fall into the nearest seat as my knees give way.

 

“Clarke, you’ve been on your feet too long. Come on, let me take you back home, so you can rest for a little while,” Harper is at my side in seconds, looking at me with large, worried eyes.

 

“Go on,” Miller says to me. “It’s not like we’re making much progress here.”

 

“No! What if Arkadia is in serious danger? Or what if our people were trying to warn us that someone is coming for us?” I insist to the group at large, trying to stand back up, but Harper pushes my shoulder back down.

 

“What? More serious than nuclear power plants exploding?” Murphy asks.

 

“Enough.” Miller says, his tone dropping several octaves. “You all know what Kane and Abby said. We’re patrolling the outer marshlands at night and will keep trying to reach Arkadia by radio. I know it sucks, but it’s the best plan we’ve got for now. There’s no way we can even think about going home yet.”

********

 

I leave the Council room begrudgingly with Raven, but halfway across the village, a chill causes goosebumps to rise along my arms. I forgot my coat in the Council room. I head back to pick it up, but as I approach the door, hushed voices halt my steps.

 

“She’s taking this really bad,” Monty is saying. “I mean, we’re all upset, but she’s . . . she’s starting to lose it, isn’t she?”

 

“She really loves him,” Harper whispers back in a soft tone. “I don’t think they ever really dealt with how they felt. You know how stubborn they both are. And now she’s afraid she’s lost him for good.”

 

There’s a pause, and then –

 

“Do you think she has?”

 

“I still have hope. God, I hope he’s alive,” Harper replies. 

********

I’m full of buzzing, electric energy as I settle down under my blankets. Raven insists on propping up a few pillows under my knees because she says my ankles look too swollen. I feel like a beached whale, at least what I recall one looking like in old biology textbooks I’ve seen. The girls tell me my skin glows, and I tell them to go to sleep.

 

Everything grows softer and darker as cicadas begin to thrum outside. The sky we can see glimpses of through our small window is infused with indigo and rich purple hues. I watch the colors morph into a deep black as stars embroider the heavens like snippets of lace.

 

My usual nightmares don’t find me because I can’t sleep. I lay on my side, facing the bare wall, thinking about that night in the rover instead. If I concentrate hard enough, I can still feel Bellamy’s warm, reverent hands cradling my cheek, curling around my hip, dancing across my stomach . . .

********

The Guard patrols the surrounding area each night for the next five days. I take to walking the boundaries of the Water Clan’s village in unending circles. Sometimes Jasper and Monty join me, threatening to bust out the Jobi nuts if I don’t at least smile at their jokes.

 

And then . . . and then . . .

 

I see bright, beaming, beautiful headlights. Rover headlights. They flash their yellow pyramids of color right through the chinks in the perimeter fence from the top of a hill about a half-mile away.

 

I’m running, tearing across the soggy ground toward the gate of wooden planks that keeps us isolated from the radiation-soaked Southeast.

 

“Clarke! Clarke! Hold on!” Monty shouts from somewhere behind me, taken by surprise as he pants to catch up. “We were just kidding about the nuts!”

 

But then I hear him gasp. “Oh my God!”

 

Jasper overtakes us within a few seconds. He’s sprinting toward the watchtower, where Miller is already launching himself down the steps and toward the levers that open the heavy gate doors.

 

“Who is it?” Jasper calls.

 

“Can’t tell! It’s definitely an Ark rover though,” I hear Miller say.

 

Miller tosses Jasper a rifle, and they make their way together through the gates. I’m huffing to keep up. Then Monty throws out his arm to halt me.

 

“Hey! Slow down, ok? It can’t be good to run like that while you’re pregnant,” he says earnestly.

 

“Women – used to be able to – run marathons while - they were pregnant,” I pant out, repeating a bit of history my mom liked to tell me on the Ark when I was an intern. I don’t even know if it’s true, but Monty probably won’t know the difference.  

 

“Let’s not test that theory, all right?” he asks, bending down to clasp onto his knees as he catches his breath.

 

“Kane, get to the front gates now. We’ve spotted an Ark rover approaching the gates. I repeat: there is an Ark rover approaching the gates. We need you now,” Bryan speaks into his radio.

 

I hear Kane before I see him, his steady footsteps coming up from behind Monty and me where we wait at the edge of the gates. Raven and Abby are hurrying along behind him, while Harper races atop the wall’s narrow walkway, ninja-style. She hurtles herself toward the oval slice in the wall that leads to a staircase. And then she too joins the others in a line of defense in front of the gates. We’ve witnessed too much to be overly optimistic.

 

All around us, the Water Clan begins to emerge from the nearby huts and beach paths. The rover’s motor grows louder, and its brashly bright headlights rip through the gathering darkness.

 

Aldric, the chief, steps forward. He’s a thin but muscular man who stands several inches taller than Kane. His gray beard is close-clipped around his jawline, but his silver hair stands up, spiky and messy. His green eyes generally dance with a keen awareness of his surroundings.

 

“What’s going on, Kane?” he asks in a deep, slightly accusatory tone. “You know we don’t condone violence here.”

 

“No, no, nor do we,” Kane jumps in quickly, holding up his hands. “This is one of our vehicles from Arkadia. We think it’s our people.”

 

“What if they’re sick with radiation poisoning?" Danae, Aldric’s second in command, demands. Her angular facial features draw together to make her appear bird-like as she narrows her eyes, glancing between Kane and my mother.

 

“We have the medical supplies to help the amount of people one rover could carry,” my mom says confidently.

 

The rover moves slowly down the winding, narrow gravel path leading toward us. I shake my leg incessantly, squinting into the darkness, to the point where my mom reaches down to still the motion with her palm.

 

But finally, it halts, engine still running. Dust particles swirl up into the light. The driver side door creaks open, and a figure emerges.

 

I dig my fingernails sharply into Raven’s arm until I hear her audible, “Agh!”

 

_Octavia._

********

Jasper is shrieking, whooping with a happiness so foreign, we all turn and stare. He lunges at Octavia, picking her up and swirling her around in his arms before she even closes the door behind him. She grins up at him when he puts her down and leaves her hands wrapped around his forearms.

 

“Nice to see you too!”

 

“You’re alive! You’re alive! This is amazing!” he replies, eyes never leaving her face.

 

“Indra!” Kane yells, hastening over to the rover’s passenger side where Indra jumps lithely down to the ground.

 

He looks unsure of what to do for a moment but then wraps her in a hug.

 

“Hello, Kane,” she smiles at him. “The end of the world has made you sentimental I see. There are more passengers in the back.”

 

“More survivors?” Mom asks in a breathless voice, hastening to the back door. “From Arkadia?”

 

“They were the only ones we could convince to come. The Grounders all thought we were insane,” Octavia offers.

 

Mom throws open the doors, and as they step into the headlights’ gleam, we see six careworn travelers tumble out. They’re wrapped in brown blankets, rips in their dull clothing sealed over with shiny strips of duct tape. Remarkably, there’s no sign of radiation poisoning anywhere.

 

“This is a miracle!” mom exclaims, mouth open, looking back at Kane who’s nodding his agreement. “All right, everyone, careful now! Let’s get you inside, so I can have a look at you all. Then we’ll get you something to eat and a place to sleep. Jackson! Jackson!” she shouts out over the gathering crowd.    

 

“But how is this possible? You drove all the way here? From Arkadia?” Kane asks Indra, bemused. “What about the fallout? How did you survive?”

 

Indra holds up her hand and rubs the spot where her neck meets her left shoulder.

 

“I know you’re looking for drama and intrigue, Kane. But I promise, it’s not an epic tale. It can wait until morning. We’re in no danger now, and I need some rest.”

 

“Of course, I’m sorry. I completely underst—”

 

“Clarke!” Octavia unexpectedly shouts, her gaze finally falling on me as she comes rushing over. “Oh my God. You’re pregnant?”

 

I stare back coldly.

 

Unflustered, she plows on. “I’ve never seen anyone pregnant before! This is incredible! Who’s the father?” She looks at me, her face a genuine mixture of wonderment, joy, and curiosity. As if we’re two normal young women, old friends who haven’t seen each other in a while catching up on life events. As if she’s not the cause of the last five months of my personal Hell.

 

_Is she this stupid? Or self-absorbed? Can she have no idea?_

 

She reaches out to embrace me, and I feel Raven’s arm moving out to steady me, but she’s not fast enough.

 

“You selfish bitch!” I yell nastily, smacking her across the face with as much strength as I can muster. I’m shaking, and my face is a contorted mask of rage. My mom jumps forward to hold me back with Miller’s help. Octavia looks like a wide-eyed doe. Our assassin is actually trembling as she stumbles backward.

“Who’s the father?” I yell, and I feel my grip on reality dissolving away. That’s fine. If this is the way I crack up, I’m ok with it. “WHO’S THE FATHER? Who the hell do you think the father is, you self-absorbed brat!”

 

I elbow Miller squarely in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him and freeing my arm. I shove my mother away after successfully stomping on her foot and launch myself at Octavia, smacking every square inch of her I can reach before Jasper and Monty hurry forward to pull me off.

 

“What the _hell,_ Clarke?” she gasps out, limbs sprawled out on the ground as she puts a tentative finger up to her bleeding lip.

 

_Yeah, I guess she was that stupid._

 

“Where is he? WHERE IS HE?” I continue screaming. “How are you alive if he’s – if he’s –“ I wrench my fist away from Jasper’s grasp but inadvertently knock it into his nose. He releases me abruptly, groaning. My fingers lunge for the seam of Octavia’s gray shirt, and I tug at it, falling to my knees as Monty struggles to contain me single-handedly. I claw at every bit of her skin I can reach until Kane hauls me up under my arms, pulling me back toward the gate.

 

“Clarke! Enough! Enough,” he says firmly.

 

“Bellamy’s not here?” Octavia glances around at each face that stares back at her in shock. “He was supposed to be in front of us. The last we heard from him, he was about ten miles from here.” Her eyes flit from person to person, intent on finding someone who simply isn’t here.

 

“You’re the only new people from Arkadia we’ve seen in five months,” Jasper tells her, voice muffled as he holds a white strip of cloth to his bleeding nose.

 

As if in a daze, our very own Sky Reaper walks into the village gazing all around her, the elegant knot of chocolate-colored hair atop her head unraveling, while the charcoal outlining her eyes looks heavily smudged. Yet beyond a few light red scrapes along her arms, she seems unharmed. The thought makes blood surge through my veins white-hot in a renewed rage that causes Kane to grab the edges of my jacket to stop me from pouncing again.

 

“Easy, Vinheda,” Indra says softly to me as she approaches, footsteps light on the earth. “Let’s go into camp, and I’ll tell you everything I can.”

 

“What did you call me?” I snap, going rigid.

 

“Vinheda,” she points at my stomach. “You command life now, Clarke. No one is going to hurt you. It would be a huge mark of dishonor.”

 

I don’t even bother to reply; there are no words left. Mom comes to stand next to us, wrapping her hand up in mine.

 

Minutes pass. They turn into a half hour, then an hour. Members of the Water Clan slowly drift back inside the gate, believing there is nothing left to see. Octavia returns to us but stays far away from me. We, Sky Crew, hold a silent vigil, staring off toward the north where the beige ribbon of a road dissolves away into the horizon, waiting.

 

It’s slightly surreal when the ground vibrates the slightest bit beneath my boots. The drumming sensation bounces up my legs and into my ribs. With one hand cradling my stomach, I clutch at Kane’s warm forearm, feeling the steady pulse of blood pumping near his wrist. I glance up at him, blue eyes questioning if he feels what I feel. He meets my eyes, reflecting my tentative hope right back to me. He nods, smiling a little. He surprises me by placing his hands on my shoulders, and I take a deep breath, shutting my eyes momentarily before opening them and tracking the movements of the dark, roving dot in the distance.

 

From the sight of it, it’s moving as fast as it can go. But it feels like the pace of time has slowed. A flash of blue flutters in my peripheral vision, a luminescent butterfly. The first one I’ve seen since the dropship crash-landed.

 

I squint but can’t see who’s driving the rover, nor who’s in the passenger seat. But as it draws closer, I can’t make out the telltale signs of his curly hair, his broad shoulders.

 

“I don’t see him, mom! I don’t see him!” I say, breaking the collective silence. The tears thicken my voice, making it warble and break.

 

She sighs deeply, squeezing her eyes shut. “He’s coming home to his people, Clarke. He’s coming home to his family.”

 

“He has to be in there! He has to be!” Octavia shouts out to nobody in particular. “We only took two rovers. We left the others behind for the Arkadians who wouldn’t come . . . in case they needed them.”

 

“Were you together the whole time?” Miller asks, walking into the dirt road.

 

“Yeah, I mean . . . mostly,” she runs her hands over her face and tangles them into the coarse knots of her hair, causing the updo to fully fall out. “He was driving. We took different routes about 50 miles back around a dried up lake Indra thought was quicksand. But, they pulled ahead of us . . . we thought they got here already.”

 

The rover swerves toward the trees lining the road, then finally comes to a halt. A tall, stocky man steps out from the front seat. His name is Stanton, but that’s all I can remember. My nails dig into the flesh of my mom’s hand, and I try to bite back a yell. An older woman emerges from the passenger seat, immediately flinging herself toward the back of the rover.

 

“We need a medic!” she cries in a raspy voice.

 

Like a wind-up toy sprung to life, mom takes off toward the rover, Jackson following behind her.

 

An Arkadia family from Alpha Station I recognize vaguely walks into the light toward us.

 

And then, with one arm slung around my mother’s shoulders, and the other around Jackson’s, he appears at last. Ashen, barely keeping his eyes open, crimson blood bursting onto the cloth bandage wrapped tightly around his waist.

 

“Bellamy,” I breathe.

 

I bridge the fifty feet between us as swiftly as I can, and his eyes widen when they focus blearily on me. I notice tears gathering in his eyes, and my heart breaks wide open, ragged and raw.

 

“You came back,” I say softly, grasping his hand from where it hangs over my mom’s shoulder.

 

“I promised you I would,” he replies.

 

We stand lost in looking at each other for several moments, like the time I first jumped into his arms when I realized the dropship blast hadn't killed him. A dam of tension inside my chest bursts open and dissolves as I beam at him. His loving eyes ground me, and I hope mine do the same for him.  

 

My mother puts up no fight. She steps aside, and I wrap my arm around Bellamy’s waist, letting him lean into me, as he drapes an arm loosely around my shoulders. Even half-conscious, he places most of his weight on Jackson.

 

“Clarke –“ he croaks out. “Clarke, I’m sorry. I tried. But you’re – you can’t be –“

 

“Shhhh, save your strength, Bellamy. You’re going to be all right. We'll patch you up. Everything will be fine. Don't worry about a thing - I've got you.”

 

His warm weight is perhaps the biggest comfort I’ve ever felt in my life, and I breathe in the earthy, forest scent that still clings to him as Jackson and I hurry him toward medical.


	7. Brave Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He's everything you want. He's everything you need. He's everything inside of you that you wish you could be." Vertical Horizon said it better than I could.

_“I follow you into the park, through the jungle, through the dark._

_Girl, I’ve never loved one like you._

_Moats and boats and waterfalls, alleyways and payphone calls._

_I been everywhere with you (that’s true)._

_Laugh until we think we’ll die, barefoot on a summer night._

_Never could be sweeter than with you._

_And in the streets you run afree,_

_Like it’s only you and me._

_Jeez, you’re something to see._

_Home, let me come home._

_Home is wherever I’m with you._

_Home, yes I am home._

_Home is wherever I’m with you."_

_~ Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, “Home”_

 

Mom flicks on all the battery-run lights in the small medical space as soon as she sets foot inside. Even with their help, the room is dim, with deep shadows clinging to its corners.

 

I clutch at Bellamy’s side, my fingertips grasping tightly to the cotton shirt under his jacket. The warmth and solidness of his side comforts me a little bit. I take a shaky breath.

 

“Easy, easy, we need to get him up on the table carefully,” Jackson says from the other side of the metallic table partially covered with makeshift cushions. We only use it for circumstances that absolutely require operations.

 

Bellamy gasps as he sits on the edge of it and attempts to shift himself backward. Mom and I help him remove his leather jacket carefully as every movement seems to cause him pain.

 

“I have to cut the rest of this shirt off,” Jackson notes, glancing around for his surgical tools before spotting a small, glinting blade tucked on the second shelf of supplies against the wall. He adroitly slices right under the collar of Bellamy’s worn T-shirt, running the blade down slowly and then ripping the rest apart with his fingers.

 

“What happened?” Mom asks, her eyes searching Bellamy’s with rapt attention. “Who did this to you?”

 

I place my hand on the middle of his back as Jackson helps him lie down. He glances up into my eyes, and I move my other hand to cradle the back of his head before it hits the smooth, silver surface. Jackson and my mother rinse off their hands with fresh water from a turquoise basin before pulling on latex gloves and circular masks over their mouths.

 

“Cl-Clarke,” Bellamy splutters at this new opportunity to talk. “You’re pregnant?” his voice is astonished. “H-how is that even – I mean, am I the –”

 

“Bellamy! I need you to focus. What happened to you?” my mother says more urgently as she gingerly begins removing the cloth bandage soaked in blood. I gasp despite myself when I see how wide and deep the wound is.

 

“Water buffalo,” he grunts out, wincing as he shifts into a straighter position. “The rover’s battery was close to dead. We stopped to recharge it before sunset. I was outside on the radio, trying to let the others know, and it caught me by surprise. Stanton shot it, but not before it took a piece of me with it.”

 

He smiles weakly up at me, and eyes filling with tears, I smile back. I push a nearby chair over to the edge of his table and get up on my knees as close to him as I can manage. I pepper soft kisses along his hairline.

 

“Clarke, how—”

 

“Shhh,” I whisper, interlocking my fingers with his tightly as Jackson slides a needle into the crook of his left elbow, preparing a sedative IV drip.

 

“We’re going to take the best care of you,” I promise into his ear, batting away more salty tears. “And then we’ll talk, ok? We’ll talk for as long as you want.” I choke on the last word, and my mom shoots me a look full of pity.

 

“Clarke, honey, maybe you need to leave,” she says it kindly enough. “This isn’t the best place for you in your condition.”

 

“This is exactly where I need to be,” I say quickly with enough force to silence any further argument.

 

“The sedative is flowing. He’ll be under in about two minutes,” Jackson says. “We only have the low-impact supply left.”

 

I squeeze Bellamy’s hand gently, rubbing soothing circles into his palm as his violet-shaded eyelids flutter like moths’ wings.

 

“It’s ok. Everything’s going to be ok,” I keep repeating.

 

Suddenly, his hand jerks from my grip and moves to my forearm, and he winces. But he grips it with a firm pressure.

 

"Clarke..." he splutters my name. 

 

Jackson meets my eyes and nods slightly, blocking mom from getting nearer the table. Her face is deeply pained, etched with lines that shouldn’t be there.

 

"Jackson, we need to make sure his blood is clotting then get started or--"

 

“Just give them one more minute,” I hear him whisper before pulling her into the far corner. 

 

“I want . . . you to know . . . I love you, princess,” Bellamy gasps softly, eyes focused on my face. “I’ve loved you ever since our day trip,” he grins weakly.

 

Sharp pinpricks erupt along the back of my throat as a thick warmth blankets my body. _The memory of the giant oak tree looms in my mind, his shaking hands, his frozen stare. I see Dax’s twitching body lying a few feet away from the edge of our boots. He told me how his mother raised him to be good. I offered him forgiveness. I told him I needed him and asked him to come home with me._ I knew I couldn’t lose him even then. The crushing weight of his potential loss sits on my lungs and won’t budge.

 

“I do know, baby. I know,” I whisper back, leaning in to press my lips lightly against his before drawing back. “I love you, too. Always. You’re like the other half of me. So you’ve got to get better, all right?” I inject a dose of bright cheer into my voice. “Otherwise, who else is going to teach our kid how to shoot a gun the right way? You know it won't be me!” I try to laugh but it comes out like a dry sob.

 

“Our kid . . . ?” he almost mouths the words to me. His voice is getting weaker. But I see his smile blossom before he fades from consciousness.

 

As Jackson and my mom sort through glass bottles of disinfectant, packages of gauze and stitching thread, I carefully drag my chair away from the table to give them room to work. I’m shaking, but I refuse to move when my mother requests it one more time. I close my eyes and try to remember what space looked like through the Ark’s windows. But the memory is cold and vast and haunting now. Those bright stars were always so distant, so far out of reach.

 

I amplify the sound of his melodic voice in my head, let it echo around as snippets of our past conversations return to me, taunting me with all the times I could have told him how I felt sooner. _“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m letting you do this alone.” “Look, if you need forgiveness, I’ll give that to you. You’re forgiven. Please come inside.” “I'll get you out of here."_    

********

 

Octavia bursts in with Miller almost on her heels.

 

“What’s wrong with my brother?” she demands loudly, eyes wild as they take in the scene before her. It’s amazing Miller was able to keep her away for even a few minutes by the looks of it.

 

“Miller, get her out of here!” Jackson says calmly but forcefully as he begins cleaning the ragged wound.

 

“Not until you tell me he's going to be ok!” she protests, knocking Miller’s arm away.

 

I stand up quickly and take a few strides across the room toward her, hands on my hips. “He was gored by a water buffalo while he was trying to keep you safe because you ran away during a nuclear apocalypse!” I snap. “You had to run to Echo, didn’t you? You couldn’t wait to betray your people, could you?” I sneer. “You wanted to be selfish, to wander off and figure out the cruelest way to hurt him! So you found the one person who betrayed him and helped blow up Mount Weather!”

 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Clarke,” she huffs. “And it’s not like you never wandered off and stayed with someone who betrayed you and your people. Go look in a mirror.”

 

The blood pounds in my ears, and I crack my knuckles at my sides, flexing my fingers. “Get out of my sight, Octavia, or I swear, I’m going to —” I begin marching toward her, raising my hand in the air.

 

“ENOUGH!” mom yells behind us, so fiercely I jump. “You're acting like children, and I don't have time for it. Miller, get Octavia out of here now please. Clarke, sit down and stay quiet if you don’t want me to throw you out, too!”

 

“ _Come on!”_ Miller grunts, taking Octavia by her shoulders and steering her back across the threshold. “Sorry,” he says tersely over his shoulder to my mom and Jackson.

 

Octavia throws me a look of scorn mixed with something deeper, more palpable but unknowable, before turning to shove Miller square in the chest.

 

“I’m staying with my brother!” she insists.

 

“You’re staying outside. So move,” he replies before successfully guiding her past the door and out of sight.

 

********

He loses so much blood.

 

Enough to run in rivulets down the tight, tanned skin of his torso. 

 

Enough to scare the Hell out of me like nothing else ever managed to. 

 

Enough to make me fold my hands and bow my head and pray to whatever God I hoped could hear me and grant me the mercy of his life. " _I'll be devoted to him for the rest of my life. I'll love him so well and so deeply he'll never doubt it. I'll care for him and put his needs above my own. I'll wrap him in kindness and warmth. I'll be his family. I'll build a family with him. Just please, please, please let Bellamy live. He's my whole life. I need him. I need the father of my child. I can't do this without him, please, I just can't."_

 

I thought I'd known real fear before, but I hadn't known anything. Only pale imitations of the absolute horror I feel over the next two hours as Jackson and mom stabilize the one person whom my existence now orbits around. 

 

His face drains of its color, and his skin looks cold like marble.  

 

But he lives.

 

The day after the surgery, he slipped in and out of consciousness on a rickety cot, moaning about acid fog and reapers and crucifixions. I handled that well enough. I wiped down his forehead with cool, damp cloths. I brought tin cups of water to his parched lips and caressed the back of his neck while he drank. When he called out for his mother though, my tenuous grip on my emotions began to slide away.

 

“I’m so sorry, Bellamy. I’m so, so sorry. She’s gone, baby. She’s gone,” I whispered into the stillness of the room, where only the sound of his heart and lung monitor whirred and beeped occasionally.

 

When Octavia came to visit him, the stern gaze of my mother propelled me from the room. I said nothing to the girl whose face looked strange no longer framed by braids, and she returned the favor. Exhausted, I ran a hand through my own oily, matted hair and decided to take a scalding shower. As if the hot water battering against my temples and sore back muscles could erase the nightmare of growing up in a space society, on a planet, that stole our parents, our friends, our lovers without the slightest remorse.

 

A few days later, the Water Chief gave me and Bellamy permission to move into a cabin a few hundred yards from the shore. It had three windows sliced into its sides, all of them framed by light yellow curtains, which fluttered in the breeze. From there I enjoyed watching the seagulls circle and soar through the air over the sparkling water, splashing down when they spotted a fish near the surface. The cabin was sparsely decorated. It had a full bed, dresser and side table on one side and an oval-shaped, wooden table with three chairs, a threadbare blue throw rug, and an ancient gray cloth rocking chair with small bits of stuffing slipping out of the rips in its upholstery on the other. In short, it was perfect.

 

Jasper and Monty lugged the lone, two-shelf bookcase I’d been able to locate into the cabin and placed it against the wall across from the table. I carefully laid out the five books I owned, sending up a silent prayer of thanks my original Ark family cabin hadn’t been incinerated during landing.

 

Those first few nights, I lay beside him and watched the moonlight play across his face while he slept. I counted his freckles splashed across the bridge of his nose. I traced the sinews of his bronzed forearms and allowed his deep breathing to lull me to sleep.

 

*********                              

A week after the surgery, we camp out on a blanket on the white sugar sand beach, watching the waves break. I pop sticky sweet orange wedges into Bellamy's mouth as I lean against him, and he sucks on the tips of my fingers when I try to pull them away. It makes me giggle.

 

“Bellamy, act your age!” I pretend to be annoyed when he yanks back a bit of fire-roasted chicken from my mouth just as I lean forward to capture it.

 

“But there’s no fun in that,” he smirks at me, laying down and propping his hands behind his head, enjoying the sunshine on his skin.

 

“Ok, so you’ve explained the radio message to the Council. I get that the Arkadians saw you and Octavia coming to the gates and thought Indra could be a threat because she was wearing Trikru war paint . . . ”

 

“Mmmhmmm, you always were good in school, Clarke,” he teases, eyes closed.

 

We've been over this several times already, and I know I'm driving him slightly crazy making him recount the painful memory. 

 

“But what I don’t understand,” I plow on, ignoring him, “is how you got any of them to get in the rovers with you. They insisted on staying there to die when we tried to get them to come on Luna’s ships.”

 

“Like I told you, I gave a speech,” he says simply, covering his eyes with his hand to block the sun. “People are willing to fight and die for me, remember? I have a way with words.”

 

"I wish I'd been there to hear it," I sigh, running my fingertips down his arm. "It must have been something to change their minds." 

 

It's like a storm cloud passes over his face as he sits up again, hands os his knees. "I'm glad you weren't. I'm glad you were safe here."

 

"But the other people, Bellamy," I say to him pleadingly, "They are our people, too. We can't guarantee they'll be safe there."  

 

He threads his fingers through my wavy hair. “Always so serious, Princess," he murmurs. "Look, I don't like it anymore than you do, but we have to respect their free will. This is what they wanted. Hopefully, we'll be able to get back to Arkadia sooner rather than later, but we'll have to wait and see. We’ve been through Hell, but we’re here, we’re alive, right?" he cups my chin in his warm palm, and I nod solemnly at him. "Our friends and family are with us," Bellamy continues. "We’re incredibly lucky. Plus,” his hand drops down to my growing stomach, and I smile at the comforting weight of his splayed fingers. I feel a small kick from our baby and know he does, too. “We have a lot to look forward to.”

 

I know he’s right, but the shredded ribbons of our past will probably always haunt me. From what I understand now, Octavia spent her days after leaving Polis Tower training as a warrior with Indra. Echo tried to convince her to help build an army against Sky Crew to win back the Flame. Although she injured some grounders who rebelled against Ice Nation’s iron grip rule, Octavia didn’t kill any of them. It turns out the rumors which reached us were worse than the truth. She completed the Assassin’s training, but when her orders came from Echo to return to Arkadia and steal the Flame – killing me if necessary – she tried to escape. Even played dead by leaving a bottle of arsenic by her side. She later cut her way out of the burial shroud Ice Nation wrapped her body in before its people carried her to a ramshackle greenhouse next to a graveyard of tilted tombstones to be buried the following day.

 

Bellamy’s screams – though I never witnessed them – when he saw them moving her body when he was searching the woods for her flood my mind if I don’t keep busy. But those screams told her he was alive and nearby. She found him at the base of some snow-covered trees soon after, and they returned to Polis for Indra. When the first nuclear reactor suffered a mini-explosion, they were already at Mount Weather, intent on finding leftover radiation suits. They escaped the blast by fleeing underground. The suits got them as far as Arkadia, and a few weeks later, the radiation monitor needles fell from burnt orange to neon yellow. They had to take a chance of driving south with the rovers. Roan knew Echo had gone too far. He radioed to say he was spreading wild tales about Octavia, fueling the flames of the stories people already told. If anyone attempted to harm her, he or she would be kicked out of the coalition, and therefore, out of Roan’s sweeping protective powers. Ice Nation was the only clan with access to sizable bomb shelters built decades ago to avoid the nuclear fallout, after all. Nobody wanted to test the truth of his threats and learn what being burned alive felt like.

 

So Roan saved the Blakes for me. But I’ll probably never be able to thank him. I don’t even know if he’s still alive. But I will never forget what he did. I will _never forget it_. 

 

*********

 

I nestle my tiny angel against the spot right over my heartbeat for a moment, amazed by her bright blue eyes and abundance of dark hair.

 

“You did it, Clarke! You were amazing,” Bellamy beams at me while pushing a strand of hair off my sticky forehead. “She’s so, so beautiful.”

 

He leans down to kiss me, and I cup his cheek with my hand. We’ve made something together – a precious, adorable _human life_. I see him in her face and love her instantly with my whole heart. I would do anything for this child.

 

“Would you like to do the honors, dad?” my mom asks him, holding up the scissors for him to cut the umbilical cord.

 

After he does so, Jackson reaches for the baby, rubbing her down with a clean blanket and making sure everything is normal. When I hear her cry heartily, I lean back against my pillows and let out a deep sigh of relief.

 

Octavia is the very first visitor. She offers Bellamy a tiny brown teddy bear – Heaven knows where she came across it – and smiles hesitantly. Bellamy glances nervously between the two most important women in his life. I catch his eye and smile, then I hold open my arms to her, and she rushes forward to embrace me.

 

"Thanks for visiting, Aunt Octavia," I tell her when she pulls away. "Your niece is in the cradle - you can go pick her up if you like."

 

Octavia doesn't need to be told twice.

 

"Finally, something you didn't screw up, big brother! She's perfect!" Octavia teases, elbowing him in the ribs. He just grins like an idiot and pulls her tightly into his side as they gaze down at the latest, baby Blake.  

*********

“What are we going to name her?” Bellamy asks a day later, taking the sleeping bundle wrapped lightly in a blanket into his arms and tracing her tiny pink feet.

 

“I have an idea,” I say softly, propped up on some pillows on our bed. Through the window, the sun is a ball of fire slipping past the edge of the horizon and into the ocean, staining it a brilliant shade of tangerine.

 

“Let’s hear it, but remember, I do have veto power if you’re bad at this,” he teases.

 

“Bella Hope,” the words tumble confidently out of my mouth.

 

He blinks at me, arms swaying slightly as he rocks our daughter. Surprise registers on his features.

 

“I want her name to honor you because I thought I was going to lose you,” I keep my voice together but just barely. It’s fraying out on the edges. “And,” I bite my lip as my eyes well up for what feels like the hundredth time in 24 hours, “We have so much to hope for now.”

 

He nods several times at me. “Thank you.”

 

Bouncing her ever so slightly in his arms, he sits down in the old rocking chair across from our bed and begins talking to his little girl.

 

“Hi, Bella. Hi. I love you. I love you and your mama so much.” His voice sounds almost unrecognizable in its delicate delight. I hear her gurgle at him.

 

He rocks back and forth in the chair, staring down at her as if she were the most valuable thing in the universe. She fusses a little, and I see one of her tiny fists wave in the air.

 

“It’s time to sleep, little princess,” he coos to her, allowing her to try to wrap her fingers around his much larger one. “I’ve got a story for you.”

 

I close my eyes, smiling, as I lean back into the headboard, listening to the voice I love most in the world.

 

“Once upon a time, a giant space ship called the Ark soared through the stars. It glided around and around the Earth, holding thousands of people. They all lived in space because they couldn’t live on the ground anymore. The Earth was sick, and they had to wait for it to heal before they could go home. Then one day, the people’s chancellor found out there was a problem with the ship. It was running out of air. He decided to send a group of brave teenagers down to the ground to see if they could survive there instead. Aunt Octavia was part of the group leaving the Ark, and daddy had to go too to protect her. We fell through the sky so fast, and when we landed in the woods, I wanted to open the door. But just before I could, a voice stopped me. I turned, and there was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. It was your mommy.”

 

I chortle. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Bell.”

 

He laughs too, and continues, “I knew right from the beginning she was full of passion and fire. She was born for life on Earth. And, well, it took me a little while to realize it, but she helped me see we all deserved a second chance at a good life . . . "

*********

The thick, sweet air of spring wafts into our open window as Bellamy latches his mouth onto the side of my neck, sucking on the delicate flesh there and lapping at it with his tongue.

 

“Mmmm,” I moan weakly, knotting my fingers in his tangled curls.

 

When his lips return to mine and his hand squeezes at my hip, my knees fall open naturally for him. I slide my tongue into his mouth as he begins flicking at my clit in a deliciously mean way. I can barely hold back the noises that threaten to rip from my throat and wake up half the village. At least Kane and my mom are babysitting tonight.

 

I claw at his back, letting my nails scratch down his muscles as he deftly pushes two fingers inside me and makes sure to stroke at the bundle of nerves clustered along my inner wall.

 

“Bellamy . . . ” I whimper, as his left hand begins to draw lazy, slow circles around my nipple, never touching it.

 

“Yes, princess?” he huffs, voice full of laughter.

 

I lean forward and nip at his lower lip, causing his fingers to push farther into me as I buck my hips against him.

 

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs in my ear before returning to his assault on my clit and left breast.

 

“I want to ride you,” I confess, locking my gaze on his smoldering one.

 

He smirks down at me. “All right, your wish is my command,” he agrees, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses between my breasts and across my stomach.

 

He flips onto his back, and I shift closer to him but surprise him at the last moment by taking him into my mouth.

 

“God, Clarke!” he huffs out against the headboard, pressing his fingertips into the top of my shoulder as I slowly take more of his hardening length deeper into my throat. I lightly massage his balls while swirling my tongue repeatedly around the tip of him, moving my hand up after a little while to stroke the underside of his shaft. He knots his fingers into my hair, and I smirk when his words come ragged and desperate a minute later, “Climb up on me, Clarke. I have to – be- inside you.”

 

I do as I’m told, gripping the tangled sheets with my fingers for purchase and throwing one leg over his hips. I guide the tip of him to the edge of my opening. He sits up fully and drapes my other arm around his neck while staring into my eyes as he penetrates me. I sink down slowly, catching his right hand with my left one as I groan from somewhere deep in my chest. 

 

“That’s it, baby, up and down,” he urges, grabbing my hips and pushing me up a bit, so that I fall a little harder onto him each time he does it until I’m seeing stars. He begins flicking at my clit again with his pointer finger, then rubbing it between his pointer and thumb and squeezing it lightly until I call out his name. I grip his broad shoulders harder and rock against him. He pulls first one nipple, then the other into his warm mouth, sucking them both aggressively as my hips find a rhythm with his deep thrusts. 

 

I cry out when he grips my ass tightly and pulls me in to him, wrapping his hand around the back of my head and latching back onto the pulse point on the side of my neck. Heat quickly rises from my core, and I feel it radiate out into the rest of my body as my orgasm overtakes me. He only lasts a few more thrusts before I feel his release flooding inside me. I smile at the now familiar gush of warmth like it's life-giving, because it is. 

 

I slump over onto my side several moments later, circling my arms around his waist and nestling my head against his chest as he wraps his arms securely around my back and kisses the top of my head.

 

“I’m going to love you forever, you know that, right?” my lips move against his slick skin as I nestle my ear against his steady, strong heartbeat. “Until the stars stop burning.”

 

“Even after that, Princess,” he sighs. “I’ll love you even after that.”


End file.
